Contingency
by NDV
Summary: Miss Parker finds answers, but not to the questions she thought she was asking. And Jarod? This time he's the one in the dark. ***On hiatus. Expected return 08/2011***
1. Prologue

_Okay guys. This is just my being bored and watching first season Pretender (happily on DVD – anyone know a projected date for Season Two?) and channeling some plot bunnies. I haven't written in quite a while, as you can no doubt tell. Any comments or suggestions would be welcome. I intend to finish this one, hopefully better than the Pretender fiction I've written in the past. However, I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with it. _

_Insert standard disclaimer here._

_This may have some standard plot bunnies in it, but I promise some non-standard twists… and as always, this is a Miss Parker-centric fic. Beyond that, I have no leanings whatsoever._

_Contingency_

_"No! Mama, no! Mama!" the words were cried in the high-pitched voice of a troubled child. Gunshots. Falling. And oh, so much blood._

Sweat beaded on her ashen forehead, her head twitching almost imperceptibly from side-to-side. She lay on her back, her legs twisted to the side, the fingers of the hand laying on her stomach curling and then uncurling; if the motion had not been out of fear, it would have been a caress.

_"They're hurting her! Let me go, let me go!" a young boy cried._

A low groan forced its way to the surface. Curls of dark brown hair, sweat-dampened, stuck to the side of her face.

"Jarod..." she cried, voice strained and sad and child-like.

"Miss Parker!" A hand descended on her shoulder, "Parker, wake up." Her eyes snapped open, flooded with fear and angst, red-rimmed with tears. Tracks streaked her cheeks. Ben Miller sat on the edge of the bed, his hand moved to cover the one laying at her side. "Just a dream, little Miss," he near-whispered.

She involuntarily jerked her hand away but the injured look on his face made her reach back toward him without a second thought. "I'm sorry for waking you, Ben."

"It's only seven o'clock, Miss Parker. You've been asleep since you arrived before noon," he paused, "You should have at least wrapped up." His words were scolding, fatherly.

The dates, she couldn't help but think, oh the dates line up. If he were my father...

"I'm sorry, Ben, I'm afraid I'm not very good company today."

"You aren't feeling well," he nodded, laying a hand over the one on her stomach. "Is it your ulcer?"

Her look was sharp, accusatory. "How did you know about my ulcer? Never mind, let me guess - Jarod?"

"No, me." A new voice joined the duo. The calming accent kept her hackles from rising. "I followed you here, Parker. I knew something was wrong," he paused at her mildly annoyed expression. "Call it my inner sense." Sydney stepped forward into the room, and Ben vacated his seat so that he could reach her forehead. "You are ill, Miss Parker."

"No, Sydney. Just tired." And I get the feeling my plan for a weekend retreat has just flown out the window, she thought, swiping a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'm going to go keep Mr. Broots and his lovely daughter company. Jarod should be here before nightfall," Ben announced, exiting the room.

"Broots? Jarod? Sydney, what's going on?" her tone demanding.

"I don't know, Parker. Broots and I received a video call this morning from Jarod, telling us we needed to follow you here. You were too far ahead, so Jarod told us where we could find you. He said he'd meet us here, that we all needed to be out of the Centre for a few days. Something bad is happening, Parker, and only Jarod can explain it."

Silence reigned. "Sydney, I..."

"Just relax, Miss Parker. Everything will be okay, Jarod will be able to give you something for your ulcer."

"No, Sydney. I have to leave. Now."

"Parker... what?"

"Jarod can't fix this, he can only make it worse. I have to leave, now."

"What about your answers, Miss Parker? You know Jarod holds the key. Something's going on Parker, something we need to know about!" He watched her sling her legs over the edge of her mother's old bed, and stand using the bedside table as support.

"Sometimes, Sydney, there are more important things than the past."

"And what is that, Miss Parker?" he questioned.

"The future." She grabbed her coat from the hope chest at the end of the bed, and hefted a small bag from beside it over her shoulder. "Tell Jarod..." she faltered, "Tell him that if he isn't careful, the answers will eat him from the inside out. Tell him that I'll find him, the game has not changed, I'm just giving him a reprieve. If I'm not here, he has nothing to fear."

"But..."

"I'll see you on Monday, Sydney. You can listen to Jarod's gibberish and give me the condensed version, otherwise I'm sure I'll hear it around 2 a.m."

_Let either one of those two figure this one out._ God, did she hate her every movement being analyzed.

"Don't go back to the Centre, Parker. Jarod warned us..."

She nodded. Her mother's voice was strong inside of her, telling her to leave. _Leave now_. They would be safe there. But she needed to be away. The answers Jarod would bring were not the ones she sought. Those were the ones she would find within her own heart, and soon, the voice promised.

"I'll be fine, Syd."

"Where is Miss Parker?" Jarod queried, surveying the faces around the room. The quartet lifted their eyes to him as he stood just inside, having just announced his presence after moments of casual observation.

"She left when we arrived," the aging psychiatrist informed him, gaze steady, analyzing his young protege's reaction to the words. "She said that your answers were unimportant, that there was nothing you could tell her that she didn't already know."

Dark brown eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed. "We made an agreement that all information would be shared!"

Broots shrugged helplessly from his position next to his daughter on the couch. "Debbie, why don't you go help Mr. Miller with that tea?"

"Daddy, what...?"

"Just go, sweetheart."

No one had ever called Miss Parker "sweetheart", Jarod thought. _Maybe that would have saved her_.

"What's going on, Jarod?" Sydney asked, taking the seat Debbie had vacated, watching Jarod dance from one foot to the other.

"Do you remember, Sydney, when I left you the red notebook about the slumlord in New York? You and Parker went to the warehouse and you were shot by Parker's gun. Parker was thrown against the fence, you were both mugged? It was Centre organized, Sydney, they were meant to take Parker to a branch facility, impregnate her with the next Mirage. Something went wrong, they lost a man in the shuffle and that is what saved you both. Instead, Brigitte became the surrogate. If they had waited, she would have known too much, she would have been disposed of afterward, just as Brigitte was."

"Jarod..."

"Master Parker, the boy... he's dead, Sydney. He's been dead for weeks. They just removed his body from the Centre after dissecting it and analyzing every cell. Parker came here five weeks ago, escaped to Ben's, and that's when the boy inhaled a lethal dose of Raines' nerve gas - the gas that was supposed to stimulate lung growth when he was on the verge of death just after he was born."

"My God," Broots uttered.

"I don't know if she's aware... her access to the boy was restricted anyway, but she has to suspect something. I assumed that's why she came back to Maine so quickly."

"I didn't know she still visited the child," the older man shook his head. "But, he was her brother, and she did deliver him. Perhaps there was some sort of bond there that she was unwilling to share with us."

"I found a directive in the Centre mainframe - they're trying for a third Mirage. But they're out of Catherine Parker's DNA. So naturally..."

"They're going to use Miss Parker's?" Broots' face was sullen and horrified, but not entirely surprised.

"And yours?" Sydney guessed.

Jarod's face was grim. "My father's."

"But... that would mean..."

"I know, Mr. Broots. We have to find Miss Parker before they entrap her into this plan of theirs."

"She would never willingly become a part of something like this, would she, Sydney?" Broots looked to his cohort.

"No, Broots, she wouldn't. And that's the problem. They would need another surrogate, they would have to do it without her knowledge."

"Who better to be the surrogate for a Centre experiment than the child's own mother?" Jarod's question was rhetorical. "We have to find her before the directive is acted upon. She'll be a prisoner... just like I was."

"She's always been a prisoner, Jarod. Her cell was just bigger than yours."

Jarod's mouth was set in a grim line. "I've been in touch with my father. He's prepared to help us act against the Centre, take it down if necessary. We haven't worked out the details yet, but something must be done. There will be a war. But we need Parker on our side before she becomes a casualty. I need to find out where she might have gone, and why she came here five weeks ago."

"She hasn't been here in over a year, Jarod," Ben Miller answered upon his reentrance to the room. His and Debbie's expressions belied their eavesdropping.

"Daddy... Daddy please tell me what's going on!" Debbie flew toward her father, tears welled in her eyes.

"If she wasn't here..." Sydney began, watching as Broots took Debbie's hand and inhaled deeply.

"They may have already gotten to her." Jarod cut him off, obviously fearing the words he spoke.

"Or she may have gotten to them."

"What...?"

"Maybe she already knows, Jarod. Maybe she's already setting up her own contingency plan. One she doesn't want us to be a part of."


	2. Section 1: One

Thank you to those who have sent me e-mails or reviewed the first part... I'm aware that this part does not quite clarify things, and definitely doesn't answer your most pressing questions as posed in Part One (which, incidently, if you want disclaimers and such, look there. I'm not big on repetitiveness!). I'm sorry I haven't answered everyone independently, it's been a very busy two weeks. At any rate, the next few parts will reveal some more answers... I hope, anyway. All depends on how things play out and what strikes me when I sit down to write! Again, thank you for the reviews, and I'll gladly accept any comments you'd like to share. Enjoy!

"They created their perfect minion when they killed her mother," Sydney told Jarod. "But they created your closest ally when they took Thomas. And this, I'm afraid, will make her snap."

"Or make her see reason," Jarod cocked his head to the left. "Maybe now she'll be ready for the grand finale."

"Grand finale?" Broots repeated, eyes wide as saucers.

The brown-haired man nodded solemnly. "The end of this Centre-insanity."

"You mean, the end of the Centre." Sydney supplied.

"Yes, I suppose I do."

"Don't push her, Jarod," the older man advised, knitting his brows with concern. "Or this might not turn out the way you have in mind."

"Christ-" she furrowed her brow. Auburn hair slicked back, Miss Parker pushed her sunglasses out of the way, taking in the sight before her.

It was disturbing, really - this house. If she hadn't driven herself, she'd have been fairly convinced she was standing in her own yard.

"Jarod," she sighed, no question in her mind that this was his doing - by his design. What Miss Parker couldn't figure out - was why.

"He feels at home here - safe," a young voice told her. She whirled on her stilletto heels to face the Jarod forever lost to her past. "I imagine he knew you'd be here someday - just not today."

"Gemini." Of course, she thought. NotJarod.

"Jim, that's what they call me now," he vaguely lifted his shoulders.

"They?"

"Major Charles, Jarod, Emily, Ethan..."

"Ethan?" her voice hopeful, eyes clear.

"He's inside," the boy grinned. "They'll be surprised to see you... though your name _has _been brought up quite a bit recently. I'm not entirely sure why, no one around here tells me anything," his voice turned slightly grumpy.

"Yeah?" they'd moved closer to the house, halting just before the front steps, she turned to questioin the clone with an uncharacteristically open curiosity. "What has your father -"

"I have no father, Miss Parker. I am a clone, just a being created through science to suit the Centre's purposes. I have no parents and I am no one's child." The door had creaked open behind them just before the boy's outburst, but neither of the two noticed. Gemini's expression was that of an angry child attempting to be an adult.

Parker's eyes narrowed and without a moment of thought, she reached forward and gripped his shoulders.

"Centre or no Centre, you are a fourteen-year-old boy with a family who loves you enough to live mostly on the run so that you can be safe and live a somewhat normal life with at least a moderate amount of freedom. That's love, kid, and you'd do damn well to remember that - because those people in there, regardless of what they, the Centre, or that niggling little voice in the back of your head might say - they are your family." She let her hands drop to her side, as if remembering herself.

He pursed his lips, his right eye twitched, flickering with some unnamed emotion.

"It's a hell of a lot more than anyone's ever done for you, Sister," Ethan murmured.

"Ethan," her voice again controlled, the bite of frustration dissipating, she turned to face him, only to see Major Charles a few feet behind, his expression full of concern, confusion, and amusement. Before she could say anything further, he slipped his arms around her, crushing her in his embrace. After a momentary struggle - more internal than external - she sagged against the sturdiness of his frame.

"You are safe here," Major Charles' voice was low, almost gruff. He had not moved from his position on the stairs, focusing instead on her interactions with his sons, her unexpectedly ashen pallor, the shake of her hands even as she had held firmly to Gemini's shoulders.

"Jarod said this house was the closest he'd ever seen to a home," Ethan breathed into her hair, watching Jim slip into the house, brushing past Major Charles with a heavier footstep than necessary.

"It looks like my house, Mama's..." Miss Parker whispered back.

"It feels like her, too."

Unbidden, she fought the tears that threatened to dampen the shoulder of Ethan's shirt.

"You've lost weight - we should get some lunch." Uncertain, he struggled for words. His mother's voice was muffled by the overwhelming emotion coursing through his veins. Taking a deep breath and focusing, Ethan knew to follow his older sister's lead.

"Is it true, Miss Parker?"

She inhaled deeply, breath almost catching on a sob.

"I'm learning that listening to her," she freed one hand and tapped a finger to her forehead. "is even more reliable than Jarod. Not that I couldn't set a clock by his two a.m. calls." She wiped tiredly at her eyes.

"You're okay, then."

"Depends on what you call 'okay'," her words were bitter. "The Centre is trying to use me as a human incubator for their next "project", and I use the term liberally. They think I'm my mother-" Ethan winced. "I... I'm sorry, Ethan. I didn't..."

"It's okay," he nodded. "We should go inside. You have a story to tell, and then there's lunch..."

She grabbed his wrist, "I'm glad you're my brother, Ethan." Her watery eyes could not meet his.

A cautious smile lit his face as he shook her hand from his wrist then wrapped it in his own. "Let's go inside. We can talk over lunch and then we'll contact Jarod..."

"No!" she shook her head, "No Jarod."

"Okay, okay," Ethan soothed, pushing her towards the door. "No Jarod." He felt her shift pensively beside him, wondering what would await her inside.


	3. Section 1: Two

"Sister..." Ethan began, slipping a warm mug of cocoa into her cold hands. Briefly, he wondered if he'd have to close her fingers around it as well. They'd seated themselves at the large oak dining table at the back of the house, he, his father, his sister. There was no chill in the air, as one might have expected, though the bite of mystery settled close around them. Jim had yet to reappear from his venture upstairs, and both of the men were growing restless as she had remained silent. "Sister, what is going on?"

"Why didn't you call me Miss Parker - just then?" she asked, sipping the warm liquid. Gathering her thoughts, her wits about her.

"I wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do, if it was who you wanted to be now," he lowered his gaze, hand cutting through the air, "after all of this."

Her eyes flicked from her brother to his father, and she sighed. "Jarod, while a genius, has this amazing ability to not _think_ about things, to feel a little too much. I do not want him involved in this, because... well, he would get himself hurt, quite frankly. And that's the last thing I want right now, there are enough people walking around with battle scars from the Centre, and he already has his fair share. This... it has nothing to do with him."

"We won't call Jarod," Major Charles nodded, "if you'll tell us what is going on."

"I'm not ignorant, Major Charles, Ethan. Far from it, if you believe me. I am a Red File just like Jarod, but my mother and my... well, Mr. Parker, whomever he may be to me - if any relation at all - fudged the results a little bit. The Centre, the Triumverate, whoever it is that sanctions Pretender testing, or any of it, knew that I was smart, knew that I may someday develop my mother's gift, but didn't know ... just what the strength of it might be." She sipped from the old mug, squirmed in her seat. Her eyes were slightly sunken, a little darker than usual. She was tired - so very tired, but the story had to be told for them to see why she needed their help, why she needed to be away from this place, from _him_. "My mother's inner sense began to develop when she was an adult, around the same age mine did. Ethan's... well, his was... enhanced," she cut her eyes to him as he let out a bark of sarcastic laughter, "by the same process that destroyed Timmy - Angelo. The inner sense is different in men than in women, it is not a naturally occuring phenomena. The Centre used methods to mutate the portion of his brain that would be affected by the possession of an activated, dominant gene. It's much like the Pretender gene, though it's the same gene, just a different mutation. You see, the genetic mutation that makes Jarod a Pretender... it's slightly different, but hereditary all the same. But, Major Charles, have you ever wondered why you don't possess the same branian qualities as your son?"

"Margaret and I... we assumed NuGenesis had something to do with it," his words were slow, his eyes clouded with thought. How could she possibly know these things? Where had her information come from?

"Right you are, old man. NuGenesis exploited the _gender_ of your child - nothing more, nothing less. Margaret and you each carry a recessive genetic mutation, that, when activated by the pairing of another recessive gene with the same mutation, leads to a child with a mental capacity far greater than that of it's parents. Except the gene can only be activated in males. In females it remains dormant, to be passed on through future generations. That's why the Centre never actively attempted to take Emily from you - not that it couldn't, but simply because she was of no use to them. Like me, I guess you could say. The genetic mutation is there, but it wouldn't help the Centre any, to possess a tool they could not use. This... mutation, it doesn't pass from generation to generation, exactly. Jarod's children won't have it - which is why they cloned him, rather than attempt to create one of his children, his grandchildren... will. A father cannot pass it to his child. Only a mother is guaranteed to pass on that gene, without knowledge that she, herself, even has it. What lies dormant in her, is hyperactive in her sons. Her daughters may be carriers for the gene, but her children will only possess it if the father of her child also carries the dormant gene - like it was with you and your wife. Emily's children will likely never be Pretenders, she is only useful to The Centre as a threat to you," she shrugged. "Now, with the Inner Sense, it is much the exact opposite. In boys, it can be activated at childhood but it becomes almost like shizophrenia, with dozens of voices speaking at once, some contradicting each other. Only with training and patience can the false voices be blocked out while the one true voice - who happens to sound like our mother," the brunette sat her mug on the table and took her brother's hand in her own, eyes sparkling wistfully, if only for a moment. "With women... it only occurs in the middle of - what the Centre terms - her child-bearing years. It happens naturally, gradually, always starting with a traumatic event. But in females, it's more than a voice - like when we learned of Tommy Thompson at the same time... it comes in the form of premonitions - like when I knew you would save me from the burning house, Ethan; visions..." her laughter was choked, loud, "sometimes I see ghosts of people I've never met! The lucky few can master it themselves, the others receive training."

"Sydney helped you." Ethan nodded, glancing at Major Charles, whose face was set in a grim line, brows furrowed. Ghosts?

"Yes, he did. Some of the skills I've developed come from the gift of the Inner Sense itself, but to harness those... a woman needs a mentor. It also helped that mine was the same as my mothers."

"But, I'll hazard a guess, your ability... it's stronger, isn't it? Than your mothers?" Major Charles finally questioned.

"I don't know, Major, but I'm beginning to wonder that myself." Her face was down-turned, a weary expression upon her face.

"Where did you find this out? How? And why did you come here, running from Jarod? And what's going on with this... creating another child of mine?" he finally blurted out all of the questions that had been bubbling to the surface, "How can we trust you? You're not going to return to the Centre?"

"My mother told me, a long time ago... I just, I didn't know what it meant. The one thing Jarod never found was what was in her safe. It was beneath a section of subflooring in her studio at the summer house. I had forgotten it was there when I had the room boarded up, and then Tommy..." her voice trailed off, and for a moment she was lost to them in thoughts of her own. "Then Tommy, he... tore down the wall, and took me back to what was lost, to my mother's room, her paintings. He never found the safe, though. If not for the dreams... I never would have remembered it was there. The file... it's in my car, under the passenger seat, in my briefcase." As soon as the words passed her lips, Ethan stood from his seat and headed for the front door. "Jarod... he always tries to fix things. You can't fix what's been broken this long, Major Charles. And he can't... he can't fix this. Raines' little cult, his "children", he wants them all together, and he wants to lure Jarod back there. I gave up wanting him in that hellhole quite a few years ago. I don't want to be a part of it anymore. Mr. Parker promised me once that when Jarod was back in a cell, I was free. Mr. Parker is gone, and I don't believe the deal was ever valid anyway. It's taken me a long time to reach the point where my family - that family - no longer matters. It's the family of my own making - Sydney, Broots, Ethan, Angelo, my mother's voice... even Jarod... they matter. And with this, they're being threatened. I came to you because I need your help, Major Charles. Before I left The Centre, I destroyed quite a bit of their precious cyrogenics lab, and they're probably quite angry with me about it. I'm afraid they'll hurt Sydney and Broots - and Broots' daughter - if I don't return, begging forgiveness. I urged them to leave when I made my run for freedom. There's nothing more they can take from you, Major. Your children are far from harm's way, though they may be scattered, and Ethan and I, we will help you find Margaret. That's what he's here for, and I'm here for him. I need your help to make sure that the people I care for are safe. There's no way I can ensure their safety, when I'm going to be too busy covering my own ass for a little while. Jarod... he taunts the Centre with his freedom, and he's so idealistic. He's a good son, Major Charles, but he can't help me with this. He puts himself out there far too much, and if I were to go to him for help, I'm afraid he'd blow the whole operation. I know he wants to close the Centre for good," she paused as the door to the kitchen swung open and Ethan handed the file to his father, who flipped it open but remained watching the Catherine-replica in front of him. "But what Jarod doesn't realize is that to close the Centre would be to condemn us all. Sydney, Broots, Ethan, Jarod, Angelo... they would all be sent to jail for their part in the travesties that place perpetuated. To erase their records, would be to erase Kyle, Angelo, Ethan - if you erase the data on the people that committed the crimes, you have no victim, either. It would all cave in on itself, on top of Jarod's answers, my answers. To erase everything... would allow for it to rise again, just as the scrolls predicted may happen. We have to create a foolproof plan, and I'm afraid that's not possible, not right now. And no, I can't go back. If I do that, I will be killed before I pass through the front door. You... you have nothing to lose, Major," she reiterated, "They can't take any more of your genetic material, it wouldn't be viable..." she sighed awkwardly, "and I will make sure you aren't harmed. Essentially, all I really need you to do is help me reroute some money to foreign bank accounts and make some phone calls, but they can't be made from here. If you would allow Jim to help, it would probably proceed much faster."

"Miss Parker, there is a lot of bad blood between your family and mine," he watched as she nodded. "You can understand why I might hesitate?" Again, her answer was a quiet, sad nod. "Your mother and my Margaret, they were like sisters. And I have been watching you, listening to what Jarod and Ethan have been saying, and I know that there is more of Catherine Jamison in you than you want the world to realize. I'll assist you in any way I can, so long as my family is not put in any danger. It's going to be... awkward, to say the least, lying to Jarod about it, though, even if it is for the best. And you know he will appear here before too much time has passed, especially if he suspects you've come to your brother."

"I will be out of your hair in a few days, if you'll just... help me do this."

"No!" Ethan shouted. "No," he repeated, more quietly after watching his sister jump nervously in her chair. "You are family. You stay here, with me. If you leave, I will follow you, Sister. I have to follow you."

Major Charles lifted the file and began to scan its contents even as he peered at the two over the top edge, curiosity plaguing him as always. His fingers shuffled quickly through pages and pictures and graphs, all bearing the Centre logo, dates and times and names, verifying her words. On the back flap, there was a thin leather bag akin to a night deposit bag for a bank, and inside, he traced his fingers around the edges of three DSAs.

"Ethan...?" her words were filled with a mixture of resignation and query.

"Her voice, it says... to stay with you, to not leave you. She says... you need me now. She says..." his eyes narrowed and he stood quickly, throwing back his chair, "You lied!"

"Ethan!" her voice raised to a shout, as she stood nose-to-nose with him, "Ethan..."

He reached a hand forward, pulling her hard against his chest with one arm. "You told me you were okay," his eyes were wet with tears.

"I am, Ethan. I got away, I'm just fine. And I left quite a few sweepers a little worse for the wear." At that, Major Charles let out a dry chuckle, laying the file flat on the table. His countenance was nervous, and he watched as Jarod's clone entered the room just past the two siblings.

"You're not okay, I can hear her voice, she says you need help, that you're not okay, that... I have to protect you," he eased away from her, his one hand sliding down to her elbow. His free hand fell to her waist, and cautiously it slid open-palmed over her stomach. "Her voice, Sister, it says... it says you're carrying the future in your womb."

All movement ceased, except for the heaving of her chest as she began to sob, her exertion finally winning as she felt her body sink to the floor, wrapped in her brother's arms..


	4. Section I: Interludes 2 point 5

Interludes (aka Chapter Four)

This could be construed as somewhat odd, so we're going to call it PG. It's a bit of a, well, something to hold you until I get the next part. It's been forever since I've updated, so I figure it might be worth the time to come upload this little piece.

Remember: with the Centre, nothing is as it seems.

Enjoy! Feedback is a happy thing.

Interludes

It was thick, warm, abundant. Blood tinged with water, not water tinged with blood as she'd heard would be the case. Her thoughts were jumbled, unsure. Should she be horrified, relieved? Her hands gripped the tops of her thighs as she looked downward, caught her breath.

_Mama!_

Dark hair matted around her face as she thrust forward on the bed, knees bent outward, hands flying to her midsection. She hiccuped, shook her head to clear it both of the cobwebs of sleep and the sweat-dampened strands of hair that clung to her forehead.

_Still there._ The voices were low, stuttered as always. Parker had never managed to separate her mother's voice from the static in the background, but with each moment of focus it seemed to become clearer. The fuzz was still there, but lingering ever farther behind the strong sound of her mother's voice: _Still there._ _Your time will come_.

True to her dream, she was unsure what to think. Since the moment she'd left the Centre, she'd known that something was amiss. She'd known that she wasn't_ herself_. As Sydney would have said (and then duly psychoanalyzed), she couldn't quite put her finger on it. But Ethan, Ethan knew. Ethan heard the voices - all of the voices - clear as the ringing of the Cathedral bell at times, as twisted together as a pretzel at others. Today it was her mother's voice, loud and brilliant and full of truth.

She hadn't known until he'd heard the voice; Sydney would have said she caused the static, projected it onto the line as it were, because deep in the heart of the matter she knew she wasn't ready to hear it, didn't want to know what there was little doubt of. Miss Parker was a Centre experiment, just like the others. Just like Jarod in some ways, just like Margaret in others. Like Catherine, but fine-tuned from birth.

_The cycle stops here, _she thought. The voices hissed in response, no simple response available. _Oh, Mama. I don't know what to do._

NotJarod stood in the doorway, eyes dark and wet as he searched her figure in the darkness. This should have been his mother, he had thought when he first met her. The thought had dissapated as he aged, whether it was from lack of contact or puberty he was unsure, but suddenly it hit him again. This should have been his mother, he could have protected her from this. Though his birth would have been just as much a violation in the end, he reconciled. At least this child would have parents, even if they were simply unintentional allies.

--------------------------

"No, Jarod. No, I'm sure we haven't seen her. You're right, I thought we would have at least seen some bank activity. She's got to withdraw money if she's going on the run. Are you sure she wasn't going back to the Centre? No. No, I'll keep an eye out Jarod, but I don't know what she's planning. Are you sure she didn't already have the money on her person? She certainly had the means... Try getting into the Centre mainframe, see what you can find? Find out if the experiment moved forward already or... there's _nothing_ in the Centre mainframe? So this directive came from outside... or the top?"

Major Charles' side of the conversation was all Ethan could hear, but it was fairly obvious Jarod was getting frantic.

After hearing the click of the phone, Ethan turned to his father, patiently silent.

"Jarod is... concerned."

"They were friends once," Ethan paused, listening to what was not said, "They are friends now, but it isn't the same. He has an... affection for her."

Major Charles snorted quietly, "He's in love with her. I know my son, time and distance not withstanding. I'm just not sure she returns his feelings." _My son will resent me, _he acknowledged.

"When has she had the time? To care for him, I mean. Whether she's in the Centre or out, she'll always be watching her back, waiting for them to... for something." Jim stood in the doorway, his shoulders slumped.

She was still not sleeping, she would probably join them soon, he knew but chose not to volunteer the information.

"This complicates things, and we're not even sure what this is," Major Charles adds, eyes drifting over the form of his son - his cloned son, a boy he could love no more if he had created him himself.

"Yes," Ethan nodded, pausing and tilting his head. "The voices, they are never wrong, Dad." Major Charles let out a sigh in response. "We should... hide her, make her safe, until we know what to do."

Again, Major Charles did not respond.

"Will she have the baby?" Jim asked, his voice hushed. "Do you want her to?" he zeroed in on his somewhat-father.

"The child has done nothing wrong," was his answer. "I love my children. All of my children," his eyes burned into the boys'.

Jim ducked his head, then jerked forward as he felt warm hands close over his shoulders. "Miss Parker!" he yelped.

She chuckled low in her throat, moving into the warm glow of the kitchen and slowly taking the seat between Major Charles and Ethan. "Good to know I haven't lost my touch." Parker released a nervous sigh, "Jarod must be kept out of this. We may need to use him or his assistance later, but at this point, he is to know nothing," she said pointedly. "Until then, I need to figure out a game plan, decide what to do. First and foremost, I need protection for Sydney and his family, Broots and Debbie. That you can provide for them, I can't. And then, I need to find a place sufficient enough to stay hidden from the Centre while I figure out the best way to approach this. If Jarod knows about this place, it isn't safe. We need a bunker or something," another quiet chuckle.

"Miss Parker..."

"I am not suggesting I run from you," she interrupted, "and I am not suggesting you hide me. I am suggesting that we find a place that is quiet and safe to settle long enough to make a decision. Then we'll go our separate ways."

"I do not want to lose another child." The Major's voice was firm but kind, and Parker's eyes flickered away from his. "We don't know exactly what the Centre has done, but if the Centre was only looking for collateral to use against Jarod - a non-Pretender child in exchange for a Pretender father - they would have done this years ago, or at least claimed to have done it. The likelihood that you are carrying my child is high, Miss Parker."

"The Center will not touch my child, Major," she dropped her head into her hands, cringing as the voices hissed louder, eyes sliding closed then opening again to catch his, "regardless of who the father may be."

_No one will take you from me, little one._ This time it was not her mother's voice, but her own. _I will find a way for you._

Taking it for as much a concession, an assurance of safety for the child, as she could give, Major Charles nodded, taking one of her hands from her face. "I will promise to keep Jarod at bay, and if we sense that he is coming, I promise that you shall be hidden to the best of Ethan's, your's, Jim's and my abilities. Four against one, and five against the Centre. We will find a way to remove Sydney and Broots from their grip. But you must promise me to take care of the child, to love it, and to stay away from the Centre as best you can. Your child, Miss Parker, depends on you now. Later, it will depend on all of us."


	5. Section 1: Three

Hello all

_Hello all! No, I really have_ not _abandoned ship on this story. It is one I have fully intended to continue but, due to time constraints, have been unable to update for some time. However, those time constraints have cleared themselves up and now I want to delve back into this._

_As always, this is unbeta-ed (any volunteers?). This part, in particular, may be a little rough. I am once again trying to rewatch Pretender (in the second season, now) and get back into fic-writing. My absence this time has been for several years, so there is a bit of rust on the necessary parts of my brain._

_Thanks for reading, reviews and comments are welcome. Also, if anyone wants to help beta or play sounding board for future ideas, feel free to e-mail me directly. Thanks and enjoy!_

Part Three

Ethan's eyes scanned the room, taking time to examine each of its occupants. In the last twenty-four hours, the world may as well have shifted on its axis for the differences he could tell not only in each individual, but in the shared dynamic of the group. Four individuals with very different goals had come together to form an alliance with a common purpose. Unfortunately, the purpose was one that had been borne of Centre-driven necessity: the protection of another innocent victim. Whether the victim this time was Parker, his father, or the child the voices told Ethan his sister was carrying, was another matter entirely.

"S…s….safe," the voices stuttered in his ear as his gaze drifted over the form of his sister. She was curled into a corner of the over-stuffed couch, feet beneath her and a cup of hot tea clasped between her hands. Her gaze was fixed on something no one else could see though her eyes were directed toward the front window. His sister was pregnant. The phrase felt foreign in his mind, almost as strange as knowing she herself had never said the words. The bitterness of the situation was only increased by the knowledge that, in all likelihood, the child was not only his nephew or niece but also his sibling. Another twisted Centre experiment, another victim in the game. Whether the voices were telling him she was safe where she was or to keep her safe he could not discern.

Ethan had watched her unobtrusively from the corner of her eye for several minutes before she released her tight grip on the hot teacup, sliding a hand down her front. As her fingertips spread over her midsection, she sucked in a breath and let it out in a shudder. _It shouldn't have happened this way_, he thought, knowing the exact same words were flowing through her mind with more anguish than he could imagine. After a few seconds, she moved her hand to her face and flicked a lock of hair behind her ear, blinking her eyes rapidly to clear her vision. The Centre had taken not only her mother and the man she believed to be the love of her life, not only her childhood and most of her adulthood, but also her choice in whether or not to have a child, who to do it with, and how. Despite her determined countenance and painstaking planning skills, the hurt drifted off of her in waves that he could feel from across the room. The voices may have been instructing him to keep her safe, but Ethan was becoming more concerned about keeping her sane.

For his part, Major Charles, his father, had handled the situation well. Currently he was seated at the counter that separated the living room and kitchen, hunched over the files Miss Parker had brought with her as well as those he had taken the time to compile over the years. Something in this, he had said, must give away some clue as to how to remove Broots, Debbie, and Sydney from beneath the watchful eye of the Centre. What Major Charles wasn't speaking of, however, was what Ethan knew bothered him the most: Jarod. Keeping him out of the loop would make Jarod feel betrayed, but involving him would go against Parker's wishes and make her feel betrayed. And betrayal of Parker would involve a bullet between the eyes or, at the very least, her running as far and as fast as she could. If the child she carried was genetically half of the Major, or genetically half of Jarod, he would be damned if he lost yet another opportunity, regardless of the method of conception or the identity of the mother.

Jim, with the alacrity and resilience of childhood, seemed to be handling the situation the best of any of them. After Parker had explained her intentions to the two older men and then later to Jarod's clone, he had attacked the idea with aplomb. Finding a way to effectively drop Sydney and Broots from the radar would not be that difficult. Doing so without giving away too much information, especially without making Jarod aware of Parker's location, would be the hard part. After seating himself at the kitchen table with two laptops and a wheeled cart of equipment the other three occupants of the house could not identify, he had announced that Sydney, Broots, and Broots' daughter Debbie had already essentially removed themselves from the Centre, albeit inadvertently. With Parker's information on their last known location, he had been able to deduce that they were still at Ben's inn in Maine. After his announcement, the Major was quick to point out that if Jim could locate the information so quickly, it was likely the Centre could as well. Jim had acknowledged this with a grunt, and the last twenty minutes had been filled with silence broken by the occasional tapping of the boy's fingers against the keyboard.

Ethan had never felt so tired.

--

"Where… where would Miss Parker go?" Broots asked, from his seated position at Ben's kitchen table. "I mean, she's not at the Centre, and she's not here. At least, I don't think she's at the Centre, is she?" His voice rose an octave at the suggestion, and his eyes darted to Sydney.

"Doubtful. She knows we were here. If she were to have returned, our presence would have been requested," the older man replied from his position against the kitchen counter. All three men glanced to Jarod at the man's exaggerated sigh.

"She destroyed something the Centre thought very important when she left, if she goes back, they may just kill her. Or keep her long enough to turn her into a vegetative incubator for the newest dirty experiments."

"What do you mean, she destroyed something important?" Sydney asked, tilting his head sideways and watching Jarod with a contemplative gaze.

"The mainframe, uh, well, there was this memo…" Broots began, hesitating as he glanced at Jarod, whose mouth was now set in a firm line. After a sharp nod from the other man, the computer technician continued, "she, uh, destroyed nearly all the samples in the main cryogenics storage area. Blood, s…semen, even ova. All genetic material that belonged to her, J…Jarod, and his father. Even Angelo's, some of the other pretenders."

"The Centre collects genetic material from all of its employees?" Ben interjected.

Grimacing, Sydney took the open seat at the head of the table and folded his arms. "Not knowingly, I'm afraid. They extracted the material from Jarod and Angelo when they were teenagers and preserved it in one of the labs. How they obtained Miss Parker's…" his voice drifted off.

"Probably her ulcer surgery," Jarod offered, once again beginning to pace the small space between the kitchen and the dining room.

"As for Major Charles… his sample was taken from a Centre-sponsored fertility clinic called NuGenesis over 35 years ago."

"But… Sydney, wouldn't it be, you know, too _old_?" Broots asked, squirming in his seat.

"The Centre has the newest and best technologies at its disposal, Mr. Broots," Jarod answered bitterly. "Cryogenically preserved material could theoretically be preserved for over a century without marked degradation. Miss Parker must have gotten wind of the experiments they intended to perform and decided to take care of the problem by destroying everything she thought could be used."

"B…but how?" Broots asked, "If you didn't tell her, how did she _know_? Did they, do you think they, _you know_?"

After a few moments of silence, Sydney sighed. "I don't know, Broots,"

"Angelo," Jarod volunteered, glancing from Sydney to Broots. "CJ."

"He is your informant," Sydney stated, finding the realization not particularly surprising. "CJ? Cracker Jack?" Jarod nodded in response, and the psychiatrist sighed again. "Angelo must have learned of their intent and somehow communicated the information to Parker."

"Unless she found out because they tried something," Broots interrupted, causing the room to once again fall into an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the arrival of his daughter.

"Daddy?" she poked her head into the kitchen. "I know you said to stay upstairs but you have a text message on your phone."

"A text message?" Broots queried, reaching out to his daughter to take the proffered object. Ben and Sydney sat up straighter in their seats and Jarod stopped in his tracks, as if all four of the men knew it was something that would change the course of not only their evening but their lives.

Broots flipped the phone open and hit the view button. After a moment, he struck several more buttons, then closed it again. "I know where she is."

"She sent you a message?" Jarod stepped forward, "Let me see it."

"It was set to self-delete after being opened," the tech shrugged, "but the message said 'Tommy's refuge'. It said for you to meet her there and for the rest of us to go underground until we heard from you. She said it wasn't safe."

"Tommy's refuge?" Sydney leaned his chin into his hand.

"Portland," Jarod murmured, "She's right. I know a place where the three of you can go and remain safe for the time being. I'll head to Portland and meet up with Parker, see if we can come up with some sort of plan to bring the Centre to its knees, or at least keep everyone safe. Let me get in touch with Dad, and he'll be able to get you to a safehouse."

"Jarod…" Sydney began, but his only answer was the turning of Jarod's back as he headed for the stairs.

"Daddy…" Debbie interrupted, "That's not what the message said. I read it when it came up on your phone." At her words, Sydney and Ben both turned quickly to stare at Broots.

"She said not to tell Jarod anything, that it wasn't safe for him to know anything," he defended, "Miss Parker wouldn't tell us to do something like that unless it was important." Turning to Debbie he whispered, "You can't tell Jarod anything, sweetie. Miss Parker could get hurt if we aren't very careful." The girl's eyes widened and she nodded gravely.

"What did the message say, Mr. Broots?" Ben asked. "I'm assuming it did not say to keep us all in the dark."

"The message said: 'Tell J Tommy's Refuge. Get prepaid cell. Will contact soon. J will send you to own refuge. Go.'"

"Are you sure it's even from Parker?" Sydney asked, breaking the silence that descended on the kitchen after the message was relayed.

Broots sucked in a breath before letting it out in a deep sigh. "As sure as I am about anything dealing with the Centre."

--

"The message has been sent," Jim announced, causing the three adults to return their attention to the current situation. "I have informed your friend Mr. Broots to send Jarod to Portland as you suggested, and to listen to Jarod's instructions. As soon as he buys a prepaid cell, we'll be able to contact him. I don't think it will be necessary, though. Jarod will send them here, though not directly. That is, if he buys the story."

"He's too eager to squash the Centre not to try to meet me, even if the terms are a little fuzzy. Too bad," she interjected.

After a pause, her brother spoke. "He will contact you and request temporary refuge for his friends," Ethan nodded to Major Charles. "And you will bring them here."

Miss Parker moved her feet from beneath her, and stood with her cup of lukewarm tea still in her hands. "Let the games begin."

"This isn't a game anymore, Miss Parker," Major Charles stated, his voice honest and low. "There is more at stake now than there ever has been before." He met her eyes as she walked toward him, placing the teacup beside him on the counter.

"This has been and always will be a game to the Centre," her words were tired, angry, "it's just a matter of who figures out the next play first. Jarod once told me that whoever found the answers first lives. Looks like he may have been closer to the point than he realized." After sparing a moment to meet his eyes, she placed a hand on his shoulder before turning to leave the room. "He'll contact you soon, Major. Thank you for your help."

Capturing her wrist in his grasp before she left the room, he again captured her gaze, "It will be okay, Miss Parker. We will figure this out."

Ethan watched from the table as his father released his half-sister's wrist as she offered him a sad smile in return. She turned her back to the room and disappeared down the hall, seeking the peace that only sleep could possibly offer her.


	6. Section 1: Four

As a show of good faith, I thought I'd go ahead and post the next part

_As a show of good faith, I thought I'd go ahead and post the next part. This is essentially leading to the reunion of Parker, Sydney, Broots & company. Don't worry, Jarod will be more important later… for right now, however, it is more important that the Centre gang be reunited. The next part or two (or three) will provide the background on how we got to where we were in the beginning of this tale. _

_Remember – to keep up with the Centre, one must be twisted enough to throw even them for a loop! ;-)_

_Enjoy, and please review!_

Part Four

_She is falling to her knees, hands in the air, tears and rain sliding down her face so hard that one is indistinguishable from the other. Around her is her family – marble and engraved words. Parker. Parker. Parker. "This is who I am. This is where I come from." She shouts against the rain, rails against her past. She is angry, she is hurt, she is numb._

_The scene changes as Jarod appears behind her, fading into another image. She is being dragged by sweepers away from an elevator, the world is silent though she knows she is screaming for her mama. Jarod watches, fights Sydney, tries to reach out to her to heal her pain. He could not reach her, and if he had, he could not have fixed what had been broken._

_Again, the scene changes, this time to one she does not recognize. An oxygen mask is affixed to her face, the world around her blurry. Her head shifts to the side and the world does too, but with noticeable delay. A doctor sits in front of her, all but his face hidden by her raised knees. Her feet are fitted into stirrups, her hands restrained with plastic safety cuffs to the side rails of the bed. Behind the doctor is a fuzzy image of Raines, wheezing around the tubing that delivers his oxygen. He stares down at the doctor's hands as he rolls his chair backward, extracting a long tube from beneath the tented sheets. She feels nothing, the world grays, and the scene shifts again._

_This time her emotions are felt, her voice unsilenced, her skin tingles. She feels the tug as the infant pulls at her breast, suckling for food. Her child, she knows, the child she has yet to meet. At the corner of the bed, her mother is haloed, watching with a quiet smile as her grandchild struggles for his or her first meal. A girl, she thinks, because her eyelashes are just so long. The baby skin is soft against her own, and the feeling of the mouth working and the long baby eyelashes fluttering against her makes a smile stretch contentedly across her face. Beside her mother sits Jim, who tucks the corner of the blanket at the foot of the bed. NotJarod, she reminds herself, he is his own person. Beside him is Major Charles, whose expression belies an emotion she cannot name. Ethan is running his fingers through her hair, grinning as he looks between her and her child. She thinks he looks so happy he might burst. She has not seen her but knows Debbie is seated on the other side. As she turns to look at her, the door to the unknown bedroom they are in is flung inward, and Jarod is shoved inside with a gun barrel positioned at the base of his skull. Behind him stands Lyle, flanked by Raines and three Centre sweepers. As they near the bed, she pulls the newborn closer and scrambles back against the headboard. The baby lets out an indignant wail and she lets out a scream as Lyle reaches forward to rip the child away. The two cries are the first sounds that she is able to hear._

"Miss Parker! Miss Parker!"

Snapping her eyes open, Parker flies forward in bed. Thrown off balance by her sudden movement, Jim tumbled sideways and into the floor. Chest heaving, she glances at her surroundings.

"Are you okay, Miss Parker? You were talking in your sleep, then you started crying and shouting," the boy offered, not moving from his position on the floor.

She opened her mouth, closed it and swallowed, then tried again. "You tried to wake me up?" At the boy's nod, Miss Parker laughed. "Sorry kid, I didn't mean to send you flying onto the floor." Hoisting herself to her feet, she reached a hand out to help him up.

"It's okay. Growing boys like myself have fairly strong bones. Nothing broken, see?" He hopped onto his feet and offered her a grin before sobering. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Jim. Thanks for the rescue, though. Vivid dreams," the tall woman answered, combing her fingers through her hair. "Any word from Jarod?"

"He called Dad a few hours ago, and Dad is going to go meet Sydney and Broots and his daughter in a town a few hours from here. They're arriving by chartered flight tomorrow morning. They said they were bringing another man with them, someone named Ben? Jarod said it was okay."

Parker's eyebrows surged upward, "Ben was a friend of my mothers, and has been a friend to both Jarod and me over the last few years. He called a few hours ago? How long have I been asleep?"

"Since about 4 o'clock," Jim answered, "Dad said dinner would be ready at seven." Bending his elbow, Jarod's clone gestured toward the door. "May I?"

Letting out a sharp laugh, Parker slid her arm through the boy's, "At least I know where you got the manic personality…"

--

After dinner, the adults were reminded of Jim's age when he requested to be excused to read the comic book his father had purchased him at the store the day before Parker's arrival. Left to their own devices, the three adults found themselves in much the same positions they had been in the day before when Parker had first arrived.

"Hot chocolate?" Ethan asked, pulling ingredients from the cabinet above the stove. "It always makes me sleep well, plus the milk is good for you."

At his prodding, both Parker and the Major nodded. "Miss Parker, Jim said you were having a nightmare when he went to wake you for dinner." His wording was careful, not intended to startle or set off her infamous temper.

Wrinkling her brow, she placed her chin into her hand. "Yes, I think. Some of it wasn't a nightmare, and I think most of it was memory." Her gaze drifted toward Ethan, stirring the chocolate into the pot he had placed on the stove. Both men gazed at her, silently encouraging her to continue. "I remember watching Mama get shot in the elevator, trying to reach her but the Sweepers were pulling me away. Jarod was trying to get to me but Sydney held him back. I know I heard the shot, I know I screamed. But in the dream, I couldn't hear anything. And before that… in the dream, I mean, Jarod and I were on Carthis, in the Parker cemetery. I've never felt so betrayed before, sitting there in the rain, but in the dream I felt nothing. Then… then it was different."

This time Ethan was the one whose expression changed. "You remembered something," he stated, face open but concerned. She met his eyes, and his hand slowed its stirring of the hot chocolate. "The voices," Ethan answered the unasked question. "They told me you remembered, but not what."

Crossing her arms over her chest, hugging herself as if cold, Parker answered, "It was at the Centre. I think I was inseminated by one of the doctors in the Renewal Wing. Raines was there, watching everything." She swallowed the lump in her throat, repeating dryly, "And I mean _everything_."

Grimacing, Major Charles leaned forward and opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, Before he could begin, Parker interrupted. "And then, I dreamt… at least I think it was a dream, it could have been a premonition," a shudder racked her body, "I saw her, the baby. We were somewhere, in a bedroom. You were both there, and Jim and Debbie. I don't know who else. I was holding her, feeding her, and then," she gestured with her hand toward the door, "Jarod burst through the door with Lyle and Raines on his heels."

Major Charles leaned back into his seat, mouth closed, eyes half-open. The expression on his face was frustrated, uncertain. He did not know what to say to this woman who had hunted his son like a criminal, but was just as much a victim of the Centre herself. He did not know what to say to this woman he did not know, but who was now relying on his help to protect her family, friends, and possibly a child that was either half his or his grandchild. Ethan placed a mug of hot chocolate in front of each of them, then sat in the seat beside her and took her hand into his. Bringing their joined hands to lay on top of the table, he smiled, "If it was a premonition, I would have had it too."

Her eyes widened, and she asked, "You didn't? You're sure?"

Ethan shook his head, "I didn't." He glanced up at Major Charles, "So far our premonitions have been linked, sister. I think this was just a nightmare. We'll find a way to make her – or him – safe. In the meantime, Sydney, Broots, the girl, and your friend Ben will join us tomorrow afternoon. They can help us with whatever we decide to do."

"What are we going to do?" Major Charles voiced the question the other two had not, as of yet, dared to ask.

"When it was just me, I was going to run. Cover my tracks and hide," Parker ground out after a few moments, voice low and even. "I'm afraid that doesn't look like much of an option now that so many people have been drawn into this web of Centre-machination. I have a few ideas, but for them to work, I'm going to need more than just us to pull it off."

"We won't be able to stay here much longer," Ethan added. "Too much activity in and out may draw attention to us if it hasn't already."

Nodding, Major Charles broke in, "As soon as I lead your friends here, we'll move to a new location. Once we settle, we'll need to make some decisions about how to proceed. Before we can do that, Parker, I think you're going to need to help fill in the blanks of what has happened so far. The file only gives the details of the initial plan."

This time it was Parker who nodded. "I'm afraid I don't know as many of the details as you would expect," she sighed. "But you are right, Major. If we are going to do this, we need to have as many facts as possible to go on. The only chance we have of fighting – or outwitting – the Centre is if we know what we are up against." After a moment, Miss Parker's eyebrow rose and she continued. "Please tell me we aren't going to end up in some hick town in the middle of nowhere."

With a roll of his eyes, the older man replied, "I know exactly where to go. Somewhere even my sons do not know about."

At Ethan's expression of surprise, Miss Parker's lips quirked upward and the older man offered them both a wink. "I may be old, but I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. Maybe a few even our friends in Blue Cove haven't seen."


	7. Section 1: Interludes 4 point 5

Interludes

Interludes

What Miss Parker had not seen when she first arrived, she certainly noticed when she awoke the second morning of her stay. The sound of a small plane engine cut through the fog of sleep, yet she woke with the urgency only curiosity can bring. The voices had begun speaking to her as she slept last night, though she could recall little of what was said. Her mother sang, she remembered, something soft and calm.

Pushing the covers from her legs, the tall woman stretched forward and headed for the window, watching as a twin-engine Piper rolled across a beaten trail away from the house, slowly lifting off into the sky before bursting above the surrounding treetops and heading toward the rising sun. After a few moments, Parker turned from the window and rubbed her hand over her forehead. A wave of nausea rolled through her as she thought of the days to come. It was quickly followed by the bite of hunger.

After taking the time to don a robe, she headed down the stairs to the kitchen and was unsurprised to find both Ethan and Jim seated around the kitchen table. Ethan was slumped over the table, glowering at the coffee in his cup. Jim was shoveling Fruit Loops out of his bowl. Neither of the males noticed her as she walked around the table to the refrigerator. "Well boys," she drawled, "it's going to be a long day."

"Sister!" Ethan yelped, coming out of his dazed state. "You surprised me." Heart rate settling, the young man stood and headed toward her. "Anything good?"

"No," she shrugged. "I'm somewhere between nauseous and hungry, though whether that is because of all this," Parker waved her hand in the air around herself, "or trying to explain all of this to Sydney and Broots, I have no idea."

Around his mouthful of cereal, Jim interjected, "Morning sickness can begin as early as two weeks into a pregnancy, but usually ends after the third month." Ethan shot him a glare, causing a couple of unchewed Fruit Loops to fall back in the bowl. "What?"

Soundly closing the refrigerator door, Parker walked across the kitchen to the counter and poured herself a bowl, then reached for the milk carton Jim had left nearby. After seating herself across from the boy at the table, she waved for Ethan to retake his seat between them. "That's something we should take care of before your father returns with my friends." Her words were certain but her body language belied her hesitance. "I do not want to take advantage of you, Jim, but I need your help with a few things."

"Take advantage of me? What do you mean?" His brows furrowed in concentration as he spoke.

"You're a very smart boy, Jim, the Centre made sure of that," this time, Miss Parker's tone was bitter. Clenching her fist around her spoon, she continued. "The only confirmation we have of the latest Centre experimentation has been through the voices. While they have never been wrong, I'd feel better if we had something concrete to tell Sydney and Broots when they arrive."

"You want me to run a pregnancy test?" the boy asked, then nodded. "We can do that. Father had a friend down the road who runs a veterinary clinic. The facilities aren't quite the same but it will do the job. There would be no paper records." After a pause, he shrugged, "I'm a genius, Miss Parker. At least this time I get a choice, and I choose to help you stay one step away from that place."

Blinking, Parker stared at the boy – NotJarod, she reminded herself yet again - then looked down at her cereal. "We'll go after breakfast."

--

"Sydney…" Ben began, "Are you sure my going with you isn't going to cause trouble?"

The psychiatrist patted the other man's shoulder as they waited just off the tarmac for their plane to land, "Miss Parker wanted you to come, Ben. I'm afraid she feels leaving you in Maine would be detrimental. The Centre…"

"I don't know anything about the Centre," Ben interrupted, "Catherine would never discuss it, and when her daughter arrived on my doorstep a few years ago, she was like a ghost in more ways than one. They can't ask me for what I don't know."

Chuckling quietly, Sydney shook his head. "You don't know the Centre."

The conversation was broken by the arrival of Broots and Debbie, who had taken a detour to the snack shop for ice cream before they were due to meet the chartered plane. "See Daddy? We aren't late! The plane isn't even here yet," the girl cried as they came to stand nearer the two older men. She reached down to fidget with the strap of her backpack, "Is Miss Parker going to be where we're going?"

"I don't know Deb, I hope so." Broots glanced toward Sydney for confirmation.

"Miss Parker would not send us somewhere she thought was unsafe," he told the girl, then pointed toward an inbound aircraft. "Look, Miss Broots, I bet that is our transportation."

Giggling, Debbie yanked on the sleeve of Sydney's blazer, "My name is Debbie, Sydney! And I sure hope Miss Parker is there. I miss her, and I'm scared she's sick." The ghost of a smile crossed Sydney's face at her words, and Broots answered his daughter before the graying man could even formulate the words.

"Miss Parker will be okay, Debbie. There are just some things going on she needs our help with, that's all." Looking up from his daughter's curious eyes, he watched with the others as the small charter plane grazed the tarmac and began to roll closer to them. "And after that, we're going to go on a big vacation, somewhere we've always wanted to go!"

"Like where? Sea World? Or maybe Australia? I've always wanted to see a real kangaroo!" Debbie paused, looking at the two older men, "You could come with us, Sydney, you too Mr. Miller! All of us and Miss Parker."

The plane skidding to a stop, and Broots smiled humorlessly at his daughter, "I don't know about that, Deb, but we'll see. Come on, they're lowering the steps and we don't want to keep the pilot waiting."

The group of four grabbed their small bags and moved toward the small plane's door. Within a few moments, they were all climbing aboard the Piper. The pilot turned slightly to the right and nodded in greeting to his passengers. Over his headset, he spoke, "If you'll just stow your bags under the seats and buckle up, we'll be on our way."

"May I ask our destination?" Sydney called over the sound of the twin engines.

"I'll explain everything once we are in the air. The less time we spend on the ground the better."

--

Three hours after the quiet breakfast the three had shared, Miss Parker, Ethan, and Jim were in the back room of the Carroway Veterinary Clinic. When the Major's friend Bill had been asked for the use of his facility for an hour, he had glanced warily at Parker, then nodded to the two boys. It was better, he assumed, if he knew nothing of what went on behind the closed door.

Within moments of entering the room, Jim had begun setting up a microscope and a small ultrasound machine. Ethan offered Parker a hand up onto the tall metal exam table, and smiled as she hissed at the cold beneath her legs. "First we'll draw some blood," Jim muttered from the counter across the room. Turning, he tied a rubber strap above Parker's elbow and then examined the inside of her arm for a vein. Within mere moments, he had inserted a needle and was extracting the needed blood. Looking up into the eyes watching him, the boy said, "It will be okay, Miss Parker." Miss Parker graced him with a small smile, biting back the words she really wanted to say. He wasn't the target of her frustration, she knew. It was better to stay on the good sides of the few allies she currently had. "I'll examine this under the microscope, but I have a feeling you should lay back and get ready. This ultrasound machine will be a little grainy but will hopefully show enough detail for me to give you some idea of how far along you are."

"It had to have been about six weeks ago," the brunette sighed. "It's the only time unaccounted for." Leaning back against the bed, she gazed between Ethan, who stood next to the bed and was watching her worriedly, and Jarod's clone, who was turning the dial of a microscope. For a few moments, no one spoke, and she sighed again, turning to stare up at the plain Celetex ceiling tile.

"You're pregnant," Jim confirmed, stepping away from the microscope. "I can see the presence of…" he trailed off as he looked between both sets of eyes. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Well, okay then. I'm just going to," he gestured toward the wand hanging from the side of the machine near her head. "Lift up your shirt, Miss Parker?"

Ethan took a step backward, standing near her head, and placed his hand over hers as it flopped to her side. The two shared sad smiles, and he watched as her throat shifted and swallowed the lump that kept her from speaking. Jim applied a cool gel to her stomach, then used the wand to spread it over the planes of her abdomen. After a few moments, he broke the silence. "Right there, see? It looks like a lima bean." He pointed with his pinky finger to the grainy black and white screen. "The equipment typically used on humans is much more sensitive, but I can still see the fetus right there." The two adults focused on the screen, Ethan squinting and Parker blinking harshly. "I'd say your timeline is correct, but obstetricians calculate gestation based on the first day of the last period, so I'm guessing about seven weeks." When he received no verbal response, Jiim continued, "We aren't going to be able to run all the tests most doctors run at this point, but hopefully later we can test for disease and…" he paused, "that is, if you're going to keep it, I mean."

Ethan startled, as if the thought had never entered his mind. With wide eyes, he looked down at his sister's carefully guarded expression. Her eyes were still focused on the monitor to her left. "You are, I… are you going to have the baby?"

"The Centre wouldn't have created it if they thought it would be unhealthy," she mused, grabbing the boy's hand as he moved to take the wand away from her middle. "I…" Parker made a noise that was something between a gasp and a painful gulp, "I shouldn't have this baby. It will never have a chance as long as the Centre maintains its power. And we can't destroy the Centre, it would just begin all over again. But I knew that before I came here, that whatever happened the Centre wouldn't just fade away into memory. I can't… I don't…" she let go of Jim's hand and violently grabbed a towel, scrubbing it across the flat planes of her abdomen before yanking her shirt down. "I didn't want this, I didn't ask for it, I didn't even know it was happening." This time, her tone matched her laugh: bitter, angry. "But I can't help but want it, even though it would probably be better for all of us if it were never born."

"It is still…" Ethan began, brow furrowed and eyes crinkled in alarm.

"My child, Ethan. This is my child. And I will have it, and I will be damned if Raines and his cronies have any say over that. It's not going to be easy, especially while we wait to see what the Centre does and try to figure out whose donation was used. It won't be like us, Ethan. Any of us. I won't let it become some Centre experiment!" Her voice was angry, and she grabbed his arm and hoisted herself into a seated position. "Our childhoods, yours," she looked between the two, softening her voice, "Jarod's childhood… they weren't fair. My mother tried so hard to save all the children the Centre took, all the children they created," Parker swallowed, "and in the end they killed her for it. We have to be smarter than that. We have to remember how far their contacts run and how deep they will go to take this child, to take us all back."

"I won't go back," Ethan interrupted, "and I won't let them take you either!" His older sister glanced up at him, suddenly feeling more tired than she had anticipated.

Jim wrapped his fingers around her other wrist, "Neither will I. Or Dad." The brown-haired boy wrinkled his nose, "And I understand, now. Why we can't tell Jarod." Sotto voce, "He would throw it in their faces, and then they would have proof of their success."

"I didn't know, not really," she agreed, and let their hands slip from hers as she stood. Ethan watched her, saw the wobbling in her frame, and slipped his arm around her. "Not until I saw Ethan."

"Me either," her brother granted, "but then, I guess that's different. What do you say we go get some lunch, then put the guest rooms together for our company? I think we need some food and rest before we try to put all of the pieces to this together."

Jim snatched the needle and blood samples from the countertop, slipping them into a small case and placing it in the wide pocket of his sweatshirt. "Let's go. I'll thank Mr. Carroway on our way out."

--

Once the Piper was in the air and the autopilot engaged, Major Charles removed his headset and turned in the pilot's seat to face his four passengers. "North Carolina, a small farm near the coast."

"Major Charles!" Sydney exclaimed, then chuckled. "I never imagined Jarod would send us to you." Turning to Ben, he spoke, "This is Jarod's father, Major Charles. Major Charles, this is Ben Miller, an old friend of Catherine Parker's and new friend of both Jarod and Miss Parker."

"Pleased to meet you," the Major nodded, "and welcome aboard." Ben nodded in return, warming immediately to the man upon his introduction as Jarod's father.

"Wh…where in North Carolina?" Broots interrupted, nervously handing his daughter the teddy bear he had been pulling from her bag.

"Middle of nowhere, technically doesn't exist. Perfect place for hiding and flat enough to land a plane. We won't be there for long," Major Charles dismissed.

"Where's Miss Parker?" Debbie asked, clutching the teddy bear to her chest.

"Probably waiting impatiently in the kitchen, trying not to kill my two sons for hovering over her!" the older man laughed, "We'll be there in a few hours. She asked that I bring you all to her before too much information was disclosed. From there, we will move to a more secure location. And before you ask, no, Jarod has no idea as to whereabouts and we intend to keep it that way, at least for the time being."

Sydney leaned back into the seat, elbows on the armrest, fingers clasped against his mouth. Broots, confusion plastered across his face, couldn't resist asking what the other three adults were wondering. "Why not?"

"I love my son," Major Charles began after a moment, "but he has a tendency to enjoy throwing information in people's faces. This is especially true of the Centre and all of its operatives. Miss Parker is afraid he will do something foolish and alert them as to our location or, worse still, get himself killed."

"Miss Parker's worried about Jarod?" Broots' voice elevated a few octaves.

After a moment, the Major chuckled and confessed, "Well, I'm worried about Jarod. I think she is a little more worried about other elements of the current situation, though I know she has no desire to see Jarod or anyone else injured or taken back to Blue Cove."

"Daddy, did something bad happen to Miss Parker?" Debbie broke in, absorbing the tension and worry evident in her father and his colleague.

"You must be Miss Debbie Broots," Jarod's father commented, "she has spoken much about you. And don't you worry about her, she's just fine."

Clearing his throat, the elder Broots interjected, "We heard about… an experiment the Centre was planning. Jarod found something about it somewhere, he didn't say exactly where," he squinted in thought, "but he was worried that they would try to do something like they did before, you know, with Ethan? But this time with Miss Parker, since, you know, her mother…" his voice trailed off. "Uh… di…did…?"

"We know about the Centre's intended plan," the pilot nodded. "Ethan and Miss Parker…" he paused, "Well, I promise you, Mr. Broots, as soon as we land, all of us will sit down and figure everything out. Right now, everyone has different pieces of information. One we fit all the pieces together, we'll have some idea of what the Centre is up to this time, and what we're going to do about it."


	8. Section 1: Five

To those who have reviewed or read thus far: Thanks for sticking it out with me

_To those who have reviewed or read thus far: Thanks for sticking it out with me! I know some of you are likely finding this story for the first time, while others are rejoining after my long absence. At any rate, I hope the coming chapters will offer you some answers… though definitely not _all_ the answers. Wouldn't be very apropos, now would it? If nothing else, my speed has definitely picked up. I've more than doubled the length of this story (four parts) in the last two days!_

_Enjoy and please review!_

Part Five

"Either of you cook?" Miss Parker drawled, walking down the stairs into the kitchen. Ethan raised an eyebrow, glancing up from the computer screen to see her standing by the door. She was dressed in the same uniform she always wore, slacks and a blouse, covered by a matching blazer. Her stilettos had been traded in for lower-heeled shoes. It was familiar; it was comforting.

Jim was sitting in the chair beside him, one hand on a mouse and the other on the left side of the keyboard. He did not even risk a glance in her direction. "I'll take that as a 'no'." her voice was dry. Walking around behind the table, "What has you two so interested?"

Just as she came within line of sight of the laptop screen, Jim hit a rapid key sequence and minimized the screen. The writing gave way to a game screen. "Nothing," he answered hurriedly. "I can cook, sort of. Are you hungry?"

Ethan fought a smile as the teenager lept out of the seat and headed toward the refrigerator. "Let's see, pasta and a salad? How's that? Not too heavy for lunch, and I can make enough for everyone… Hey!" he yelped as he turned around, seeing Parker maximize the internet screen he had tried to hide.

She wiggled around in the chair, trying to get comfortable as the screen reopened. Flashing the boy a wide grin, she skimmed over the page. "Everything you need to know to survive your partner's pregnancy? Is there something you need to tell me, Jim?"

"Uh, n…n-no. I just, we uh, well…" he stammered.

Parker laughed outright as he blushed bright red. Shooting a glare at Ethan, who was chuckling to himself, Jim turned back to the refrigerator and composed himself. "As neither of us has any experience with pregnancy, I thought it only appropriate to find out what symptoms we should be looking for."

"Cravings for pickles and wild mood swings?" Parker interjected with toothy grin.

With a huff, the boy continued, "No. Morning sickness, hemorrhoids, and leg cramps. You know, some women even have chronic nosebleeds." He didn't have to turn around to know her grin had faded to a look of dissatisfaction. Letting out a chuckle of his own, he continued, "I think spaghetti is easy enough, and everyone likes it."

"Kid has learned a few tricks on the outside," she muttered to Ethan, shifting in the seat again. He laughed, getting out of his chair and heading toward the stove as she began to read. Together, they began to work on lunch while Miss Parker read the screen, occasionally tapping a button to scroll down.

After the water was seasoned and the noodles added, Jim placed a lid on the stockpot then turned to face her. "I noticed you seemed lightheaded earlier, when we were readying the guest rooms and before that, when we were at the clinic. A few times yesterday too. While I know that is medically normal, Ethan and I thought reading about it from the person's perspective might give us some idea of what to do to help. Then we found all of this other information… there are a lot of websites on the subject!"

"There are a lot of websites on every subject," she muttered, closing the window. "You're a good boy, Jim. That was very thoughtful of you," a tiny, tight smile crossed her face.

"I'm hardly a boy! I'm thirteen!" He protested, then paused. "You're nervous."

"Yes," the dark-haired woman answered, closing the laptop and tapping her nails against the case. Before she could continue, car doors began to slam. All three of them stared, and Ethan started for the door. "Wait," she called. "They know I'm here, not the two of you. If it's not… just let me check." Parker shot out of her chair and headed toward the front door. After peeking out the window, she sighed, "It's your father."

After opening the door, the three watched as the rest of the group trouped up the stairs, bags in hand and on their backs. The Major was leading Ben and Sydney, with Broots and Debbie taking up the end of the line.

"Welcome back, Dad!" Jim called to the Major, who smiled and ruffled his hair.

"Good to be back! What's that smell?"

"Oh!" Jim yelped, racing for the kitchen. "The spaghetti!"

As if his words broke the ice, both Parker and Ethan relaxed their tense stances and chuckled beneath their breaths. "Parker," Ben smiled, reaching for her. He wrapped her in his embrace, and was pleased to note that she held onto him just a little bit tighter this time.

"Hello, Ben," she released him from her hold. Sydney laid a hand on her shoulder and offered her a smile before heading inside with Ben following. The psychiatrist knew that, given time, she would seek him out on her own.

"Miss Parker!" Debbie called, flinging her arms around the older woman's middle. "I've been so _worried_! And I missed you!"

Wrapping her arms around the thirteen-year-old, she replied, "I've missed you too. Come on in, I think you need to be introduced to a few people." She nodded at Broots, whose eyes were open wide in wonder and tinged with a bit of concern. Broots closed the door behind himself, setting his and Debbie's bags just inside the door. "Debbie, this is my brother Ethan. You've already met Major Charles, his father. And the boy that just ran into the other room was Major Charles' youngest son, Jim. Ethan, this is Debbie and her father, Broots." Ethan flashed his most charming smile at the young girl, then reached out to shake Broots' hand, nodding to Sydney. "Ethan, this is Mama's friend, Ben Miller. He used to visit her every spring before…" her voice trailed off. "Ben, this is my little brother, Ethan."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ethan. I'm not sure I understand, though. Your mother never mentioned another son, and certainly never another man." Ben commented, taking Ethan's hand in his own, then glancing at the woman beside him.

"It's a long story, Ben. My mother… didn't die in April. She lived just long enough to have Ethan after being inseminated at the Centre. The sperm used was a sample Major Charles had given at a fertility clinic when he and his wife were trying to conceive Jarod." Her words were quick and quiet. Ethan placed a hand on her lower back, the voices firing more rapidly than her words. "Ethan?"

"Can we… let's sit, we should sit." He propelled them toward the nearest couch, and the siblings less than gracefully sank into the cushions.

"Ethan? What is it? Do you…?" her voice trailed off, eyes squinting as she let out a low moan.

"Parker? Ethan? What is it? Are you okay?" Major Charles leapt forward, sitting on the coffee table before them, one hand falling to Ethan's knee.

Sydney spoke softly from behind the other man, "The voices."

Just as quickly as it began, it appeared to the observers in the room that whatever had happened was over. Ethan's eyes snapped open, meeting first his father's, then flitting to his sister's face. Her fingertips were pressed into her temples. "Parker? Did you…?" he began, as her eyes snapped open. Instead of answering, she moved past them into the kitchen, one hand in the air.

"What just happened?" Ben asked, finally taking a seat beside the couch. Broots held onto Debbie, who was scrambling to try to get up from her chair and run after the brunette.

Ethan blinked rapidly, "I don't know. I heard something, but it was too jumbled. Usually, the voices speak more clearly for me than my sister. She… she hears static."

"Was it your mother's voice?" Sydney asked, "or someone else? Miss Parker only hears Catherine, I'm afraid."

"I don't… I don't know," he responded, only to be interrupted by Jim's yell for his father from the kitchen.

Frowning, Major Charles stood up and headed into the other room.

"Sydney, do you get the feeling we're missing something? A lot of something?" Broots asked the psychiatrist.

"All in time, Mr. Broots, all in time," Sydney responded, patting the cushion beside Broots' knee. Hoisting himself to his feet, he said, "I suggest we see what the excitement is in the kitchen." With a measure of hesitation, the rest of the people in the room stood and followed the smell of spaghetti into the kitchen. As the door flapped open and closed, Jim turned away from his position stirring the pot of spaghetti and staring out the window.

"They're outside. I don't think Miss Parker is feeling well, so Dad took her a cup of tea I prepared to settle her stomach," he waved the wet spoon toward the backdoor. "Spaghetti will be ready in a few minutes," Jim continued, eyes falling on Debbie. "Hi, you must be Debbie. Miss Parker told me a lot about you," he smiled, offering the comfort he could see she needed. "Do you mind helping me with the spaghetti sauce? I need someone to help stir so that it doesn't burn while I shred some cheese."

"Okay," the girl replied with an answering smile, stepping toward Jim.

Ethan cleared his throat, "I think we should stay in here. They'll come inside when they're ready."

Broots wrinkled his brow, "Okay, what is going on here? Not three years ago she wanted to _kill_ him because she thought he killed her mother. Now, Miss Parker and Jarod's father are _best friends_? I mean, I can maybe understand them working together, but this is a little bizarre!" His voice was low as he glanced at his daughter from the corner of his eye.

"Everything the Centre does is bizarre," Ethan muttered. "For starters, my father did not try to kill my mother. We all know that now. Secondly, there is a lot going on here that we're going to have to work out. I think that, right now, we all need each other. My sister worries too much about me, so she has spent the last few days talking mostly with my father while she tries to work out the details of what is going on. And they're trying to work out what to do about Jarod."

""What do you mean?" Broots asked.

Sydney interrupted quietly, "While I'm sure Jarod has been the topic of a lot of conversation, Broots, I get the feeling he is not what they are talking about right now." Turning back toward the window, the older man took in Miss Parker's form, hunched over her teacup, a sad expression painted on the face she had tilted up toward Major Charles. Major Charles offered her his most reassuring glance, then patted her on the hand and slipped the teacup from her grasp. Reaching for her other hand, he pulled her up to stand next to him and ushered her inside.

"Jim? That spaghetti ready?" he called as they stepped inside.

"Yes, we're getting ready to dish it up," the boy replied, taking the wooden spoon from Debbie and handing her a bowl of shredded cheese. Glancing up at Miss Parker's gloomy expression, the girl put the dish on the table and then pulled out a chair for herself and a chair for her friend.

After being ushered into the seat by Major Charles, she looked around the table at her friends and family and let out a deep sigh. Jim began passing plates of spaghetti around the table, and within a few moments had taken a seat across from Debbie. "You're all probably wondering why you are here, I guess now is as good a time to begin as any."

"Food first, talk later?" Jim offered around a mouthful of garlic bread and sauce.

Shaking her head, she twirled the fork in the mess of noodles, shared a quick glance with Ethan and the Major, and began her story.

"Six weeks ago, I received a package from Jarod with a return address in Dover. Sydney was working on a twin study and Broots was at home with the flu, so I headed to the post office to check into the PO Box written on the package. Lyle," the word was filled with venom, "was waiting in the parking lot. After that, things are fuzzy. The only thing I remember," her voice caught, "the only thing I remember is waking up in Renewal Wing with a doctor and Raines in the room. I think it was the same day. A few days later, I woke up at Saint Mary's with a lump on the head. The nurse told me I'd been in a minor fender bender, and as soon as I felt well enough, I could go home. I signed myself out. I must have been at the Centre until right before I woke," she thought aloud. "I don't know what happened during those three days, only that I thought I had been in a car accident, and everyone else thought I had taken personal time to visit an old friend," she glanced up at Ben. "What I do know now is that, during those three days, I was inseminated at Raines' instruction." Swallowing hard around the forming lump in her throat, Parker almost whispered. "I'm pregnant and I've decided to have the child." The room was utterly silent for a few moments, before her voice once again broke the void. "The Centre may have created this child, but I'll be damned if they ever get their hands on it. Not again." Her tone was vehement, her face firm.

Major Charles offered her a kind smile, Ethan tapped her foot under the table with his own. For a moment, nothing else was said and no one dared move. "Hey, I worked awfully hard on this spaghetti, you know!" Jim cried with mock indignation, trying to lighten the mood.

Miss Parker forced a smile and reached out to tickle Debbie's ribs. Glancing at Sydney, she said, "He's right, this is pretty good."

"Miss Parker?" Debbie asked, fighting down a giggle, "If you're going to have a baby, who is going to be its daddy? Or won't it have one?"

Broots coughed, choking on a forkful of noodles. "Debbie," he tried to gasp, but the word came out as more of a strangled squeak.

"Chew first, Broots. Then swallow," Parker smiled wryly, "Debbie… I don't know how to answer that question yet. I have a few ideas as to who the father could be, but right now I can't confirm any of them. I had no real say in the situation until now."

"Daddy always told me to be careful of that place," Debbie sighed. "I'm sorry Miss Parker, I didn't mean to make you sad."

"You didn't, Debbie," she smiled back. "The situation is… less than ideal, but we all will just have to learn to make the best of it." Glancing over her head, Parker watched as Sydney smirked at her words. "Stuff it, Freud. I'm still packing." Turning her eyes back to the girl, she continued in a more genuine voice, "In a few weeks we can run a test and hopefully then we'll have some answers. For now, I think we should adjourn the topic until tonight. I think it might offend Jim if we waste this perfectly good spaghetti!"


	9. Section 1: Six

Hello again

_Hello again!_

_The answers are slowly being pieced together. I neither confirm nor deny the paternity of the child. Whether it is Jarod's or the Major's… oh, just keep reading! I dare say we likely aren't even halfway there. _

_Besides, that's not the only answer Parker & company need to find…_

Part Six

The eight sat in lawn chairs on the back patio, torches shimmering into the dark. Miss Parker was wrapped in an afghan, having shed her business attire for jeans and a sweater. The bite in the air was not unpleasant, the smell of the burning torch oil reminded her of summer. She watched embers fly from the wick of one of the torches as Broots shattered the silence. "Mi… Miss Parker? I thought Jarod was meeting you in Portland?"

She chuckled, still following the flame with her eyes. "Time for him to follow one of his own bogus trails."

Major Charles cleared his throat, "My son is very eager, sometimes a little too much so. I'm afraid this is one of those times when that could be dangerous."

"Jarod has faulted me for years for chasing him, completely disregarding the fact that I have never taken him back," she glanced to Sydney. "And then he talks about the prison that the Centre was to him, how he was forced to do things he did not want to do." After a pause, her voice gained more strength and she continued, "But he doesn't see that what he has done to me has been the same thing. Dangling clues about my mother, giving me just enough bread crumbs to find one little detail here and there. He gives me enough rope to hang myself even though he has the capability to fill in all the empty gaps." With a shrug of her afghan clad shoulders, Parker continued. "We are all prisoners of the Centre in our own ways. It seems that I have finally realized I am also a prisoner of Jarod." No one spoke, and her eyes closed. "Jarod wants to help, but this is one of those times when I'm afraid he would only make things worse. Anything he learns will have to be through one of us. The Centre has no information regarding the success of the experiment, and the action was taken on Raines' authority alone. He doesn't know anything we don't already; at least, he doesn't know anything important that we don't know already. If he knew the experiment were successful, I'm afraid he would think the child his."

"Are you sure it isn't?" Sydney queried, hand clasped in his lap.

"No, not completely. But I'm reasonably certain that it is not. That is an action the Centre would be foolish enough to take. There would be no gain, except the possibility of recapturing Jarod. Why would they do that when could create a new Pretender, mold it the way they want, without anyone getting in the way?"

"You wouldn't give them your baby though," Debbie replied.

"No, Debbie, I would not allow them to take any child with my knowledge. Regardless of their parentage," she added.

"I remember," Jim spoke softly, "I remember when you came to rescue me. You were so angry with them, I could feel it, but you were so gentle with me. I knew you would come back, I knew that I would see you again. Then Dad and Jarod came, before you had a chance." He smiled at her through the darkness, and the face of the BoyJarod drifted through her mind as she smiled back.

"You planned to rescue my son." Major Charles stated, no question evident in his words.

"Yes," Parker replied, voice as low as the boy's had been. Across the circle, Sydney and Ethan watched with great interest as Major Charles reached for her hand and squeezed it within his own.

"Thank you." His voice was grave as he released her hand from his own. "I did not know."

"They would kill you," Debbie spoke again, her voice filled with hurt and anger. "You wouldn't let them just take your baby, so they would have to kill you. Like they did your mama."

"Yes," Miss Parker said again. "And if they could not find me, they would go after all of you. That is why you are here."

"What do you intend to do, Parker?" Sydney's voice drifted into the darkness.

"About the Centre? I don't know yet, I'm still working on that. About Jarod? Keep him as in the dark as possible. It's safer for him, and us, that way. Right now?" she shifted, standing with the afghan still wrapped around her upper body. "It's been a long day, and I am going to turn in. Good night everyone."

"I'll walk you up," Ethan smiled, walking from his seat across the circle to offer her his arm. "I'm kind of tired myself."

As the siblings headed inside, Major Charles stood as well. "If you want to join me, I'll show you each to your rooms. Jim will be sleeping in the den, so Debbie you'll stay in his room. Broots, next door. And Sydney and Ben, you rooms are across the hall." Holding the backdoor open as the others walked inside, he finished, "Miss Parker is at the end of the hall near your room, Debbie, and I'm at the opposite end. Ethan's room is next to mine, though it's more like a closet really."

Jim defended, "He likes it. I offered to trade!"

"I know son, I know." Major Charles nodded, hand falling to the back of the boys neck after ruffling his hair.

--

Miss Parker was curled on her right side, facing the door. The moonlight shifting through the thin curtains haloed her dark hair and pale skin. Debbie watched her, arms wrapped around herself. After a few moments, she stepped forward.

There was a hand on her face, Miss Parker acknowledged as she groggily opened her eyes. Gaze settling on Debbie, she whispered, "What's wrong, Debbie?"

The girl bit her bottom lip between her teeth. "I'm afraid, Miss Parker," she said quietly, voice lowering to a whisper. "Can I sleep with you?"

Without a word, Parker lifted the blankets and eased backward onto the bed. Debbie climbed between the sheets and curled herself into the other woman. Miss Parker sighed, leaning her face against the young girl's hair as Debbie pulled her arm over her side. Moments later, the brunette was once again fast asleep with the girl following closely behind.

"I don't want you to die, Miss Parker," she whispered into the pillow before closing her eyes.

--

"_I don't want her to die! I don't want anyone to die!" Young Miss Parker cried, huddled in the hallway with Jarod and Angelo. Neither knew how to offer the comfort she needed. Jarod reached for her, and Angelo's eyes drifted shut as he felt the anguish drift toward him. _

_Faith was dying. There was nothing they could do to stop it_.

--

Parker snapped awake, images of her blonde haired friend and adopted sister at the forefront of her mind. Mr. Parker had told her that Faith's death had saved lives, that what they had learned from the girl improved childhood cancer treatment for those that were diagnosed after her.

_I wonder what they had planned for you_, she thought. _Don't worry, little one, you will not become their prisoner._ A fleeting smile slipped over her face as her own mother's voice entered her mind, "S…s…safe," it whispered. _I wonder if you will hear my voice as I hear my mother's._

Shifting away from the girl who was still tucked into her bed, fast asleep, Parker reached for the robe lying on the bench at the end of the bed. Tucking it around herself, she stood, only to be greeted by an abrupt wave of dizziness and an uncomfortable tightening of her throat. She rushed down the hall on bare feet, closing the bathroom door with a thud and surging toward the toilet.

The sun was just beginning to rise, the eastern exposure affording half of the bedrooms a glimpse of early morning light. Sydney stretched awake, joints cracking as bones realigned themselves after his heavy sleep. Hoisting himself to the edge of the bed and slipping his feet into bedroom slippers, he listened to the strange sound that had woken him. It was a muffled cry, something like a sob, coming from the room next to his.

_The bathroom_, he realized, _Miss Parker_. Grabbing the pitcher of water he had filled before bed, Sydney headed for the room next to his. He lightly tapped on the door before pushing it open without waiting for a response.

The brunette's body was folded around the toilet, her arms wrapped around the seat. Her dark hair was tossed haphazardly over her left shoulder, her left cheek pressed into her arm. Reaching up, she flushed the toilet only to heave again as the water started swirling. After a moment, she tried to speak, but the roughness of her throat would not give way to words.

"Your mother had violent morning sickness when she was pregnant with you," Sydney offered, reaching for the glass on the counter. He filled it with water from his pitcher, then sat on the floor with the glass clasped between his hands. "I remember there were quite a few times when I found her hunched over a wastebasket in her office – and in mine." The words were filled with humor, his eyes gazing at her fondly even as he envisioned her mother in much the same position more than three decades before.

Tugging the glass from his fingers, she cautiously sipped at the water. After a moment, she responded. "Figures," the word was grumbled. "My mother was also pregnant with twins. By choice."

"Yes," Sydney acknowledged, reading her expression as she leaned her head once more against her arm. "But would you change it, if you could?" The question was not something he expected to ask, certainly not something he expected her to answer.

Gaze turned inward, Parker did not reply. Silence fell over the room and she gulped it down like a cure. "I don't know. There are… things… about this, that I would have be different." Sipping the water, she wryly laughed, "Certainly the Centre's involvement would be removed. But I… I'm not my mother, Syd. And I may be really bad at this. But I can't _not_. I don't…" pausing, she blew a breath of air at the straggling strands of hair that had fallen in her line of vision. "I haven't loved anyone since Tommy, not really. But I…"

"You love your child. It is natural, Parker. Embrace it, enjoy it." With a smile, he reached forward and took the glass from her hand, lifting himself to his feet. "I think you will find a lot more love in your life than you realize." This time, he offered her a hand.

Reaching upward, she allowed him to slowly help her stand. Placing her other hand against the counter to test for dizziness, Parker lifted her eyes to her old friend. Quietly, she thanked him, words heavy and honest.

"How do you feel about some dry toast? That always seemed to do the trick for Catherine," Sydney's arm slipped around her shoulders, guiding her toward the stairs.

"Hmm," she sighed. "Never been much of a breakfast eater, but it's worth a shot."

--

"Has anyone seen Debbie?" Broots asked, stepping off of the bottom stair into the kitchen. Parker, Sydney, and Ben were seated at the table. The men were sipping coffee while Parker sipped a cup of tea, dry toast half eaten on a plate in front of her.

"She's in my room, Broots." Miss Parker replied, lifting the toast into the air and eyeing it with trepidation.

"Y… your room, Miss Parker?" His steps stuttered much like his words as he came to halt beside the table.

"Yes," her words were dry. "My room. I think she was frightened in the night, being somewhere unfamiliar. She came into my room and I let her stay."

Broots nodded, "Thank you." Drawing the attention away from her, he continued, "Now where are the coffee mugs?"

Ben stood and led him to the cabinet over the sink as Major Charles and Ethan walked in from the living room. "God, that's a wonderful smell!" Ethan announced, heading toward the coffee pot with the other two.

The Major chuckled, pulling the chair next to Parker's from beneath the table. She lifted her feet from where they had been resting on the cushion and placed them on the floor as he moved to take the seat.

"You look a little green," he commented, gaze drifting over her tired features and down to the unfinished toast and cooling tea. His right hand fell over hers next to the teacup. "Are you all right, Parker?"

Smiling wanly, she answered, "I'll be fine. Morning sickness."

Nodding sagely, he patted her hand. "I have heard of a few home remedies over the years, maybe you'll let me mix something up to help?"

Fighting back another wave of nausea, Parker nodded and frowned. "Just… no food." Major Charles nodded before pushing his chair backward and preparing to stand.

Sydney Green was nothing if not a people watcher. He had observed the interaction between Miss Parker and Major Charles since they arrived the day before. What he had originally attributed to a cautious, purpose-oriented truce now seemed to be a genuine respect between the two. And, on the Major's part, a genuine concern for Parker. _Jarod would be horrified to learn that his father and Miss Parker appear to genuinely like each other_. _Or maybe amused. _As Major Charles hand slipped over Parker's, then patted it, Sydney's eyes suddenly widened as if thunderstruck. His gaze fastened on the Major's after finding Parker's face turned away.

"The child," Sydney stated, leaning backward and crossing his arms over his chest, "you believe it is yours, Major."

Broots coffee cup shattered as it fell to the floor.


	10. Section 1: Seven

Hello again

_Hello again! I'm trying to slow down and pace the posting a bit so as not to overwhelm. Not to mention, there's something about ruminating over the possibilities that makes a story even more intriguing! I hope everyone reading is enjoying this… please feel free to comment/review or message me directly with any feedback or queries._

_Now, to address one quick thing before I leap into the matter at hand. Several people have asked me for a pairing or an "answer" to the who and what. At the beginning (or somewhere along the way), I noted that the story was Miss Parker-centric. This is still true and will continue to be so, though I hope that there is enough involvement with other characters to give you the necessary background as well as move the story forward. The potential 'romantic' pairing is unimportant right now and therefore, undisclosed. You don't have to believe me, but I hope that you will enjoy the story and trust that I will address that portion of the story (should there be one, that is) at the most appropriate time. Cross my heart! _

_Without any more of my babbling… the matter at hand:_

Part Seven

"Wh…what?!" Broots exclaimed, standing in a puddle of hot coffee.

Ben grabbed his arm, "Don't move, Mr. Broots. We should clean up this glass first."

"Glass?" he frowned down at his feet. "Oh, the mug! I'm sorry."

Parker sighed, "Relax Broots, it was only a coffee mug. We wanted to wait and discuss this later, but it is probably better that Debbie not hear it yet anyway." Major Charles drew his seat back under the table as Ethan walked behind him, taking the seat on his sister's other side.

"Dr. Raines wanted to create a Pretender that had the Inner Sense," Ethan explained, "But I'm not a Pretender, not really."

"Not what Raines would call a success, anyway," Parker nodded to her brother. "He did to Ethan what he did to Timmy," she wrapped her hands around the cold teacup. "Raines… he wants a hybrid. A Pretender who can hear the voices, but trying to amplify Ethan's Inner Sense destroyed his ability to be a Pretender the likes of Jarod."

"Or you," Sydney inserted. Her mouth snapped closed. "You were a Red File, Miss Parker. Your mother refused to allow them to train you, but that does not mean the abilities are not there. It runs much deeper than your Inner Sense."

Major Charles' gaze drifted to the younger woman sitting beside him. Like the other men, he was unsure what to say or do. With no obvious acknowledgement of Sydney's words, she continued. "They want a Pretender as powerful as Jarod but with my Inner Sense, my mother's Inner Sense. Genetically, the best way for them to achieve this would be through uniting the father of a Pretender and a woman who has the Inner Sense. A Pretender would not pass along the necessary genes."

"There is also the possibility that another man with similar genetics' semen was used. Or that the Centre used Jarod's in an attempt to trap him," the Major added. "Right now, anything is possible."

"Though some are more likely than others," Ethan nodded, slipping his arm around his sister.

"When will you know?" Ben asked, emptying the dustpan of glass into the wastebasket. Brushing his hands against each other, he smiled softly at Miss Parker.

"Three to six weeks," she answered. "Jim, Ethan and I did some research yesterday. A CVS test can be run then to potentially determine paternity. Or at least exclude potential matches."

"Is it dangerous?" Broots asked, hands still too shaky to try for another mug of coffee.

"Less than methods the Centre would employ," the Major replied.

"What then, Miss Parker?" Ben asked, treading cautiously.

Before she could reply, Major Charles interrupted. "First, we have to move to a more secure location. We'll be taking two cargo vans to an airfield in Georgia, where we will board a second plane. From there, I will fly us to our new location. If anyone has any objections or does not wish to join us, you must decide before tomorrow. Anyone who is uncertain will not be taken against their wishes. However, if you choose to stay, you will not be informed of where we are until such time as it is feasible." Looking to the woman on his left, he caught her eye. "You will drive one van, and I will drive the other. We'll be the only ones who know where we are going until we arrive. The fewer of us who know, the safer it is."

"In case we're separated," Broots read between the lines, then pushed back his chair, heading again for the coffee machine. "Debbie…" he began.

"Will never be safe if you go back to Blue Cove," Miss Parker interrupted. "This is it, Broots. This is the only chance we get."

Sydney stood, walking to stand behind the younger man, dropping his voice to a lower octave. "Broots, they wrested the little control we had on our lives from our hands when they made Parker their new experiment. We are her friends and we know _too much_. If we go back there, we will die."

Sighing, Broots nodded, eyes flickering from Parker to Sydney and back again. "Yeah. Yeah." After a pause, he continued, "She loves you, Miss Parker. You… you're like a second mother or… or maybe an older sister." He winced at his own words, afraid she would think he was calling her old.

Arching an eyebrow, Parker just stared at him for a few moments before smiling. "I know, Broots. We'll be okay."

"I would feel better if we had a plan," the Major commented, causing the other two men to move back toward the kitchen table. "I think we should work out a few details."

"Yes," Parker agreed after taking a deep breath. "First, Ben… you have a life outside of this, and if you want to go, there's no reason to expect that the Centre would cause you harm."

"I loved your mother, Miss Parker," the man replied, choosing his words carefully. "You are her child, through and through. I would not be here if I didn't want to be."

Blinking, she smiled back at the inn owner, "Thank you, Ben." Turning to Sydney, she began to speak only to have him shake his head.

"You have been there when I needed you, Parker, and when I haven't," he chuckled. "This was your mother's plan, you realize? Freeing the children – her children – from the Centre, showing that place, those people, that what they were doing was not something that could be done. We may never find the DSA with those answers you seek, but," he reached across the table and clasped her hands in his own, squeezing them as he spoke, "we will make our own. We will show the Centre what we are made of."

"What about Jarod?" Ethan asked, eyes focus on their joined hands.

"He'll realize I'm not in Portland by tomorrow or the day after. He'll try to contact us by phone, first. We will leave all of our cell phones in South Carolina, before we cross the border into Georgia. When no one answers, he'll attempt to reach us by e-mail. We'll need to feed him some bread crumbs to keep him busy until we have some idea of what we are trying to do," Miss Parker answered, still holding tightly to Sydney's fingertips.

Major Charles and Sydney exchanged glances, the first man turning to Parker. "When he realizes he's being left in the dark, he is going to feel betrayed."

She nodded, "But he will be alive and outside of the Centre. Being betrayed by each other, and everyone else, is something Jarod and I are used to." Releasing Sydney's hands, she rubbed them on her thighs then pushed her chair back from the table. "If there were another way to do this…" Parker began, then shook her head. "This is the only way I know to keep everyone safe, and it may not work. Involving Jarod… _complicates_ things. He complicates things."

The Major couldn't help the chuckle that rose in his throat, "That's my son." He watched a ghost of a smile flit over the standing woman's face. The weight of Jarod's emotions tugged at his mind. _Jarod may not be so forgiving if this is his child. He may not be so forgiving if it isn't._ "He wants what is best for his friends and family, Parker."

"That may be," she replied after a moment's thought. "But the fact of the matter is, Raines issued a challenge when we found out about Ethan. And another when we returned from Carthis. Only one of us can win this, Major Charles. The difference between Jarod and I is that, right now, I have more at stake. That, and I want to move carefully enough to keep us both alive."

"And free," Ethan added.

"And free," she confirmed, clutching the robe tighter around herself. "I'm going to go get dressed and wake Debbie and Jim. We have a lot of packing and planning to do before tomorrow."

With a last glance over the faces of the men in the room, she turned on her bare heel and headed up the stairs, her pace a little slower than it had been just weeks before.

Major Charles looked to Sydney, locking eyes with the psychiatrist. "Jarod may never forgive me for this."

"Jarod will understand, Major, once the facts are in front of him."

"Once we know the facts," the Major filled in, his words tinged with bitterness. "My son is impetuous and fueled by emotion; he is _my _son. He cares for Miss Parker, he always has."

Sydney nodded. "I worry that he will not forgive me this, not because we didn't tell him, but because it's _her_." Again, Sydney nodded, expression grim. Major Charles didn't continue. He didn't have to.

--

Parker had crept back through the bedroom, grabbing a set of clothing, before shutting herself in the bathroom. She set the water just hot enough to create steam and stripped from her nightgown and robe, stepping beneath the hot spray. With the water pounding, sluicing over her shoulders, back, and breasts, she allowed the tears to slip down her face. She held the back of her hand over her mouth before the power of her sobs crumpled her to the floor of the tub. An image of her mother flitted through her mind, flowered dress draped over her bulging abdomen, hand reaching out for Jarod. Her mother, sweating, crying for her son as Raines chose to end her life.

_I don't know how to do this_, she cried, hands shifting to cover her face. _I don't know how to keep you safe. I don't know how to be your mother. I don't know anything._ The steam billowed around her, body folded into the corner of the tub. After a few minutes, Parker bent her legs and wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them into her chest. Rocking her face forward, she sighed, letting the tears go. The release was nice, but the brunette knew she couldn't afford to bury herself in her sorrows for long.

_Tommy_, she thought. _If only she were yours_.


	11. Section 1: Eight

Hello everyone

_Hello everyone!_

_This part is a little longer than most, but this is for a reason. This part concludes the first section of this story, so it was necessary to add in a little more movement of the characters, and a little more involvement by most. _

_We will soon be heading into much deeper waters… I hope you enjoy the ride!_

_As always, thank you for reading. Reviews would be absolutely lovely!_

_Also, I'd like to thank nightowl230, who has been my faithful reviewer and messenger since my return. Thank you so much for taking the time to respond to each chapter in such detail – it definitely gives me the inspiration to continue! _

_Finally, I have taken some liberties with locations in this piece. I created this "house" of Major Charles just south of Raleigh, NC, and have now sent them on a journey to a small town in Georgia. The streets do exist, and the directions are accurate. However, as for the houses, airports, restaurants, et cetera that may be discussed – these are merely figments of my somewhat disturbed imagination (unless otherwise noted). _

Part Eight

Wrapping the terry cloth robe tighter around her body, Parker listened as the chatter from her bedroom grew more fluid. She could hear Debbie's voice, the young girl carrying the weight of the conversation. Curiosity piqued, she slowly pushed the bathroom door open and stepped into the room.

The girl was sitting on the freshly made bed with Jim. Her smile was bright and his expression was nothing short of intrigued.

"Miss Parker!" Jim exclaimed. "I'm sorry…" he began, taking in her red-rimmed eyes and the hands she had wrapped around herself.

"You've done nothing wrong," she smiled slightly, waving a hand toward them. "What is so interesting?"

"N-nothing," the clone began, glancing quickly to Debbie.

The girl, however, was much less hesitant. "Jim was curious about us," she shrugged.

"Us?" the brunette questioned, pushing her hair over her shoulder as she opened the closet door, stepping inside the small room to select an outfit from the meager travel wardrobe she had packed.

Debbie looked back to Jim, gaze piercing, as she tilted her head to the right. Jim cleared his throat then began. "I.. I was curious as to how you knew Debbie, what you were like, if you had family other than Ethan. Debbie said you took care of her when her father was out of town and that you gave her a book about young women."

"Little Women," she corrected. "I brought it with me, if you want to read it."

Miss Parker reemerged from the closet having slipped into a black knee-length skirt and burgundy blouse. "I'm not sure Jim would find the book quite as interesting as we do, Debbie."

"I would like to read it," Jim interrupted, "if you don't mind. I don't know much about women, it might be educational."

Miss Parker chuckled, while Debbie rolled her eyes. "It's a fun book, Jim, not like assigned reading! Besides, half the fun is having someone to read it with. Will you read it with us, Miss Parker? You do Jo so well!"

With an even wider smile, Parker replied, "I think we can manage that. Maybe we'll start it tonight before bed." Sitting at the vanity, she lifted her brush to her hair before beginning again, "So Jim, what other questions do you have?"

Frowning nervously, the boy fidgeted with the cover in his hands. "When you came to see me in my room – before, at the Centre… you were seeing Jarod," he stated. "He was the boy you cared for."

"When I first saw you, at the Centre," Miss Parker spoke, voice low and calm, "it was through a wall of glass. For that moment, I was seeing Jarod. But as I watched you, I realized you were an entirely different person. Same genetics, yes, but a different _person_. And when I came to your room to take you away, I saw _you_, not Jarod." She shifted to brush the other side of her hair, glancing at her image in the mirror.

"I think it is hard for Dad, sometimes. He sees Jarod too."

"Your father… is as much a victim of the Centre as Jarod or you, but in a different way. His children were stolen. All of his sons, even one he did not know existed. But he loves you, Jim, for who you are, not for who Jarod is or was or could have been."

Nodding, the boy pointed out, "You too. You're a victim of the Centre just like us."

Chuckling wryly, she sighed. "Sometimes I don't know whether I'm the victim or the perpetrator. The Centre made me what I am, just as it did with Jarod. I'm not sure which is worse: knowing you are trapped in a cage, or thinking you have all of the freedom in the world, only to find out you have always been trapped in a cage."

"Maybe they're just different?" Debbie piped up, only partially understanding the conversation.

"Maybe," Parker nodded, placing the brush on the vanity. Turning on the bench to face them, she placed her hands on her knees, looking expectantly at Jim.

"In the bathroom, you were crying," the young boy stated. "Why? Because of what the Centre has done, creating another child?" The two children watched her waiting for a response. Debbie's eyes were large and uncertain, Jim's curious and confused.

"How do you know I was crying?" she responded, eyes shifting between the children.

"Your eyes are red," he replied.

Blinking hard, Parker swallowed. "I was thinking about my mother," she fibbed. "Wishing she were here."

"What is it like, having a mother?" Jim asked, oblivious to the partial lie. "What was she like?"

Smiling softly, Miss Parker stood, walking to sit on the bed between the children. "My mother…" she sighed, "my mother was smart and gentle; she was compassionate and she loved children. She loved me."

"And she looked just like you!" Debbie inserted.

"Yes," Parker smiled, placing an arm around Debbie's shoulder. "She looked just like me… and she always made me feel safe, loved." Leaning back against the headboard, she chuckled as Debbie flung herself out beside her, head propped against a pillow and curled on her side. Jim studied these actions with interest. Miss Parker nodded to him, and he did much the same on the opposite side of her. After a quick wink at Debbie, she turned to Jim. "And she could make me laugh…"

"Did she tell you funny stories? Dad's been teaching me how to tell jokes!" Jim informed them, curling his right hand under the pillow at his head.

"Sometimes," Parker nodded, shifting toward him. "And sometimes, she did this!" Without warning, the woman and the girl moved as if in concert, fingers digging into the boy's sides. In just seconds, he was giggling uproariously and gasping for breath, rolling to try to evade their fingertips.

--

The noise from upstairs reached the kitchen as it rose to a crescendo, causing Sydney to raise an eyebrow at Major Charles, who was seated across from him at the table. Between them lay several files and a wildly-spread slew of papers. To Sydney's left sat a DSA case and a stack of several DSAs. All of the paperwork and DSAs, Sydney had explained to the Major, must have come from Angelo. He had only found the information upon opening his briefcase at home the night before he, Broots, and Debbie had departed for Ben's. Broots had checked the information and the briefcase for trackers and listening devices before they had departed for the airport.

Major Charles let out a short laugh and shrugged his shoulders. "Being away from the Centre has allowed him to become a child in some ways. In others, he is more of an adult than he has any right to be at thirteen."

Nodding, Sydney answered, "I'm afraid that is not particularly surprising." Shifting in his chair, the psychiatrist clasped his hands together and began again. "Had I known the Centre intended to create a clone of Jarod, I would have found a way to stop it. Parker, however, would probably have beat me to it."

"Thirteen years ago she wasn't even at the Centre," the Major pointed out. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you didn't know, and I'm glad Jim is here. I wish the Centre had never had him in their clutches, but I'm glad they created him. He is my son."

Again, Sydney nodded. "I hope Miss Parker feels the same."

"I have only been around her for a few days," Major Charles remarked, "but I believe it is safe to say that she already does. She is her mother's daughter."

"Yes," the other man agreed. Further conversation was halted by the tapping of Miss Parker's heels as she climbed down the stairs, Jim at her heels.

"Syd, Major. Debbie is taking a shower," she informed them.

"You know, Parker, you could call me Charles," the man seated in front of her stated. He watched as the corner of her mouth tipped upward.

"I could," she replied amiably, "but I'm so used to calling you Major. Where are the others?"

Sydney cocked his head toward the back door, "Ben wanted to go for a walk to see the grounds and Broots decided to join them. They'll be back before lunch to finish their packing."

Miss Parker glanced around the kitchen, eyes not settling in one place for very long. She released a small sigh, finding herself unusually melancholy at the idea of leaving this place that looked and felt so much like her mother's home. Major Charles stood from his chair and placed a hand on her shoulder, pressing lightly against it as encouragement for her to take his seat.

"Dad?" Jim asked, the chair beside the one in which Sydney was seated dragging along the floor. As soon as it was pulled a few feet from the table, Jim threw himself against the seat. "Is everyone ticklish? I didn't know _I_ was!"

"I don't know, son," Major Charles smiled, hand still on Miss Parker's shoulder. "There are probably a few people who aren't. You could always do some research."

Jim glanced warily at Sydney, gaze turning mischievous as it landed on Parker.

"Not a good idea, kid!" Parker spoke, catching the meaning of his gaze. "We Parkers hold grudges forever! Besides, remember who taught you what being ticklish was in the first place. I know all the good spots." For good measure, she stuck her tongue out at him playfully.

Astonished, Jim looked at his father. "Dad!"

The old man tilted his head back, laughing heartily. "Be careful, Jim, I think she has you there. This one could teach you a lot about how to have fun."

"And create havoc," Sydney offered. "She once freed two labs full of animals that were to be used as test subjects for arthritis drugs. All because of one bunny! You were what, 12?"

"11," she defended. "They were going to kill them, Syd."

"No, Miss Parker," a small smile on his lips, "that wasn't the intent. You are right, however, some would likely have died. At any rate, she lets this bunny go, then proceeds to free cages of white rats, lab mice, three cats and seven dogs of varying sizes. The bunny hops into an office and starts munching on one of the technicians' newspapers, a relatively harmless act. When the technician returned to find the bunny and his shredded papers, he lost all sense of propriety and started swatting and screaming at the poor animal, causing the lab techs in the offices nearby to come running. The chaos caused the rats, which were becoming adventurous, to freeze in fear, then run. This caught the attention of the cats, which managed to alert the dogs. Needless to say, a friendly petting zoo was not the result of the fracas!"

"I swear I saw steam coming out of Raines' ears," she grinned. "Of course," her words sobered, "he immediately blamed Jarod, so I turned myself in. Daddy was not pleased." Miss Parker's expression fluctuated between a frown and a grimace. "I would have done it again, anyway."

"Why did you turn yourself in, if they never thought it was you?" Jim questioned, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Because you don't let your friends take the fall for you," she shrugged. "When I was eleven years old, Jarod and Angelo were my _only_ friends. It wasn't worth losing them. Jarod would have likely never told, but he would have _known _I let him take the punishment for something I did. To me, that was worse."

Nodding, Jim smiled. "In other words, I should not make you angry because you will tickle me until I cry and then release any and all pets into the hallways?"

Laughing to herself, Parker nodded, catching Major Charles' and Sydney's grins in her peripheral vision. "Something like that, kid."

--

"This is a beautiful place," Ben commented, sliding his hand over the branch of an Evergreen. The needles left a fine sap on the pads of his fingers, so he rubbed them together and breathed in the pine scent.

"Yes," Ethan nodded. "Father will be sad to leave it. Jarod drew the plans and located the property, but my father oversaw the building and chose every plank of wood and every block of stone."

"How long have you lived here?" Broots asked, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he stumbled over a tree root. "Oof."

"Careful, Mr. Broots," Ben steadied him with one hand, barely sparing a look in his direction.

"As long as I've known him," Ethan shrugged. "This was where he and Jim have lived since they settled in one place, after Donaterase."

"Do you think they'll come back here, after all of this is dealt with?" Ben inquired, matching his pace to Broots' and Ethan's.

Shaking his head, the youngest of the men responded, "No. No, when we leave here today… we won't ever see it again." Coming to a halt, he broke a Spring bloom from the tree overhead, inhaling the sweet scent of a flower he could not name. "My sister will like this."

"How do you know?" Broots began, "Maybe… oh," he stopped suddenly, catching Ethan's meaningful stare. "The voices. The v…voices, they told you."

Nodding, Ethan began walking again. "Yes. We are going somewhere safer. The Centre will not find us there."

"But they would f…find us h…here?" Broots asked, stumbling again, this time on his own untied shoelaces.

"Given much more time," Ethan sighed, "Yes. But we won't be here. There won't be anything to find."

"What else have the voices told you?" Ben asked the question hanging in the air as the three men came back within sight of the house.

"Not much, I'm afraid. They say things in riddles, fragments, that don't make sense until the right time," shrugging, he picked up his pace. "They say my sister carries the key, that she _is _the key."

"To what?" the computer technician asked, looking up from where he knelt, tying his left tennis shoe.

"The future," Ethan extended his arm forward, sweeping it to the side. Moving it to the other side, he added, "the past."

"Whose?" Ben's voice, imbued with wisdom, broke the momentary silence that descended upon the men as they again walked toward the house.

"That," the young man responded, fingers drifting over the petals of the flower in his other hand, "I don't know."

--

They had divided into groups of four. Miss Parker, Sydney, Ethan, and Jim loaded their suitcases into the first vehicle, a black SUV with tinted windows. Major Charles, Ben, Broots and Debbie crowded into the second, a similar style vehicle in a lighter shade of charcoal. With the exception of Miss Parker and Major Charles, everyone had taken their seats and gotten comfortable with trade journals, magazines and books, prepared at the Major's insistence for a long drive to a private airstrip in Georgia.

Miss Parker leaned against the side of the gray sports utitlity vehicle, pushing her sunglasses high on her nose. The day had grown warmer than anticipated, causing her to change into a sleeveless top. Smoothing the front of the shirt down, she reached her hand forward to take the map Major Charles offered her.

"I would have installed a GPS unit for you to follow, but Jim and I decided it was better if we simply did this the old fashioned way. No chance for a tracking device." He stood beside her, tugging lightly on the right side of the map. "There is a town southeast of Macon, Georgia called Hawkinsville. Follow Highway 26 until you reach this turn off," he pointed to a faintly labeled road. "It will lead you to the airfield. You'll see the barriers in grass at the end of the strip. Just follow the metal fence down and park behind the building. My friend Joey will take care of the cars once we're gone."

"How long is the drive?" Parker asked, squinting at the map.

"Little less than eight hours, not counting bathroom and restaurant stops. Feel free to make as many as necessary, and drive as close to the speed limit as you can. If you run into any trouble, the only cell phone number is the one I programmed into the prepaid cell that is in the glove compartment. As soon as you cross into South Carolina on I-95, throw all of your other cell phones into the trashcan at the first rest stop. Remember the diagnostic chip I showed you and Jim? Remove it as well, it can be used to track the car by insurance companies. If they can get access, so can the Centre."

Parker nodded, closing the map and tugging her sunglasses down.

"I've told them not to ask where we're going, just to trust the two of us. It makes it easier that way. You have a cooler of water and snacks in the back seat that I'm sure the boys will appreciate," he added, smiling as she chuckled. "Jim pointed out that it would be a good idea for you to stop every few hours to walk around. Something about blood clots being caused by immobility in pregnant women. So please take a break every few hours and walk a little."

"Don't worry, Major Charles. Aside from the violent nausea that is determined to wake me up before dawn, I have developed a very frequent need to urinate. And if I didn't, I'm sure the boys, with their water and sodas and snacks, will need to take a few breaks."

This time it was his turn to nod. Pulling his own sunglasses down from their perch on his head, the Major finished giving his instructions. "It's about eleven right now, and the drive is approximately seven and a half hours. I anticipate taking off at ten tonight, which gives us a cushion of about two and a half hours. Don't forget to ditch the phones as soon as you cross the border into South Carolina, with the exception of the prepaid. Take breaks, call me if you run into trouble. Otherwise, we'll see you tonight."

Holding the folded map to her chest, Parker's eyes flitted to the house at the other end of the driveway behind her, something she was sure the occupants of the vehicles had likely done more than once themselves.

"We'll be about five minutes behind you," he added, laying his hand on her forearm.

"Giving me a head start?" she asked, words spoken dryly to hide her nervousness.

"Something like that," Major Charles smiled to her. "Now get in that SUV and go."

"What will you do?" Miss Parker asked, resisting the small push he gave her toward the car, curling her fingers in the sleeve of his shirt.

"Make sure no one finds us," he dipped his head toward her, gently removing his arm from her grip. "Now go, the boys don't need to see this anymore than you do." His smile was tight as he pulled a small remote device from the pocket of his khaki pants, antenna pointed toward the house that looked so much like home to all of them.

Eyes widening, Parker swallowed, then turned on her heel but did not move forward. Speaking over her shoulder, she said, voice low, "I'm sorry, Charles, for bringing this on you."

Running his free hand over his face and through his hair, he took the two steps toward her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her tight against him in a careful hug. "I would have done it anyway, regardless of this," he vowed, then just as quickly released her and pushed her toward the car.

Though the words were vague, the brunette understood his meaning, and without a word climbed into the car, slammed the door, and turned the ignition. After taking a few seconds to clear her throat and still her nervous hands, Miss Parker shifted the SUV into gear and turned out of the end of the long driveway onto Hunter Street. The irony of the name made her smile, even as her shoulders tensed with the sound of the explosion behind her.


	12. Section 2: One

Part One

Section II

Part One

They had been in the air for less than an hour. The plane was a small passenger jet with more than enough room for the eight people on board. Broots and Debbie were strapped into the middle row, both fast asleep. Ben was across the aisle, tucked into a navy blanket and shifting fitfully every few minutes. In front of him sat Sydney, who had just dozed off with his head against the window. Three aisles up, seated across from each other, were Miss Parker, Ethan and Jim.

The drive had not taken as long as anticipated due to both parties' willingness to get as far from the burning house as possible. The initial explosioin frightened the other three occupants of Parker's vehicle, resulting in cries from Ethan and Jim to be let out to check on the vehicle behind them. At Miss Parker's refusal, Jim's face grew determined and he yanked on the door handle as the car continued down the road. Having expected this reaction, she had flipped the switch to childproof the doors and windows. The boy let out an angry shout, to which Miss Parker calmly responded.

"Your father and the others are fine. They're following a few minutes behind us."

"You knew?" Ethan yelped, throwing an arm across Jim's chest as he tried to unbuckle his seatbelt.

"I saw your father remove a detonator from his pocket. It's the only scenario that made any sense. He was concerned that the Centre would find the house and evidence that we had all been there, together. Destroying the house was the only way to prevent that."

Sydney watched her passively from the next seat, sighing with relief when Jim stopped struggling. The boy's eyes filled with tears, causing him to blink rapidly.

"I'm sorry, Jim, Ethan. I know it was your home," she added, chancing a look in the rear view mirror and seeing the sadness painted across the young boy's face. She prepared to continue but Ethan interrupted.

"Sister…" he shot a quick glance at Jim, who had calmed and blinked away the sudden onslaught of wetness, "he was right. It was the best thing to do. Our home… our home is where our families are."

Sydney reached across the center console and patted her thigh reassuringly before turning to look out the other window. _And yet it probably felt more like a home than anything she has ever known_, he thought.

After the initial reaction, everyone had settled into a comfortable silence, broken by occasional conversation and laughter. Miss Parker had not said much, preferring instead to follow the route Major Charles had traced out with his finger over the map.

Upon reaching the airstrip, the group of four exited the car to find the others had beat them there. They had stopped every few hours for rest breaks, and just a few hours prior had taken an hour for dinner. With a minimum of conversation, most members of their party too tired to talk, they boarded the plane with their bags and Major Charles and Jim took their seats in the cockpit. After leveling off at 30,000 feet, Jim returned to the passenger area to find Debbie, Broots, and Sydney fast asleep and Ben well on his way there. Ethan had linked his arm through his sisters, and the two sat staring at the map on the table in front of them.

The owner of the jet had been a friend of Major Charles from his days in the Air Force, and had purchased the craft for business use a decade before. After removing four rows of seats, he proceeded to install a leather-cushioned booth and a small conference table to allow for business deals mid-air.

Parker pulled her arm from Ethan's as Jim walked toward them, leaning forward over the table to gaze closely at the map. "You should sleep," Ethan stated, resting his hand on the middle of her back. "You have been driving all day."

"I should speak with the Major first," she replied, continuing to trace routes over the United States map with her eyes.

A drip of blood splashed against the map, landing not too far from Hawkinsville. "Your nose is bleeding," Jim lept from his seat, turning toward the galley to grab a roll of paper towels. Parker's hand found its way to her upper lip, wiping at the smear of blood. She pulled her hand away, staring at her fingers, the thickness of blood.

"_Oh no. No, no, no! Tommy, stay with me! Tommy!" she cradled his head to her chest, looking up at the sky. Not again, not again._

"Lean your head back," Ethan instructed, moving to half-kneel in front of her. His words snapped her back to the present, and like a puppet she sat backward and bent her neck as Ethan's hands guided her movements. Taking the wad of tissue Jim offered from behind them, he smoothed the material into a thick square and held it against her nose, placing her hand on the bridge. Her mouth fell slightly open and she took in a ragged breath, eyes still wide and sad with recollection. "It's okay," Ethan offered, voice low and calm. "I used to get them all the time, back in the Centre," he shrugged uncomfortably. Parker moved her clean hand to his face, cupping his cheek and offering a quick but understanding smile.

"I'm sorry," Jim groused, sitting back on the floor of the plane and watching the siblings. "Maybe if I'd never said…"

Miss Parker grinned mischievously, "I won't blame you for the nosebleeds, kid," she spoke, pushing Ethan's hand away from her nose so she could speak, "but if there are hemorrhoids, you are in so much trouble!"

Ethan chuckled, both at her words and Jim's look of alarm, moving his hand back to support the tissue against her nose. Moving back into his seat, Parker's brother pulled her head against his shoulder, "Just rest for a few minutes, sister. It's been a very long day."

--

"Everyone settling in?" Major Charles asked as Jim returned to the cockpit a half an hour after he had departed. The boy slid into the seat on the right, buckling himself in and securing his headset in place.

"Most of them are sleeping," the boy shrugged. "Miss Parker had a nosebleed, Ethan helped her."

"Nosebleed?" Major Charles' wrinkled his brow, "Is that normal?"

Jim turned toward his father, cocking his head to the side and studying him. "It's not common, but is known to happen. The altitude may have contributed in Miss Parker's case."

The Major's nod was completed with a grimace. "There's nothing wrong with her, Dad. She'll be fine. When I came back to the front, the nosebleed had stopped and Ethan was tucking her in."

"A good night's rest will do us all a world of good," his father replied, letting the boy direct the conversation.

"Speaking of which, when will we be arriving at our destination? And what _is_ our destination?"

"Little less than three hours now," the older man answered, flipping the switch to auto-pilot and turning the dial beside it. "44 degrees, 31 minutes north," he pointed to the LCD screen between the two seats, "109 degrees, 3 minutes west." Unbuckling the safety harness and removing his headset, he leaned over Jim and ruffled his hair. "I'm going to go take a nap. Wake me in an hour, hour and a half, or if you have any trouble." The boy nodded, listening as the door closed behind him.

--

"Parker, wake up," Ethan called, kneeling on the floor near her ear. "Come on, we've let you sleep as long as we can."

The brunette groaned, brushing the hair that had fallen over her face out of her field of vision as she forced her eyes open. "Wha…?" Miss Parker began, using Ethan's shoulder to push herself to a seated position.

"I carried you from the plane," Ethan offered, "you were really tired. We're here." His words were unnecessary, he knew, because as soon as she looked out the Jeep's window she would realize that they were certainly nowhere near the Georgia airfield they'd departed from.

"Wyoming," Major Charles offered to the group, "Certainly can't get any farther in the middle of nowhere." The others were standing outside of the two vehicles the Major had commandeered from a friend in the nearest town.

Running a ragged hand through her hair and over her face, Parker stepped out of the Jeep and stood beside her brother. "You've certainly got that right," her words were dry. "How are we supposed to get supplies out here?" She turned to the left, to the right, taking in the reddish brown soil and uneven patches of grass. In the distance she saw a butte, the sun shining brightly behind the plateau. Behind her was the house, a building that looked deceptively small on the outside but gave way to three underground floors in addition to the two built at foundation level.

She took a few steps away from the vehicle to better view the area. The house was built into the side of a small cliff, the lack of overhang allowing for direct sunlight exposure only from the southeast. The Cliffside sloped downward, leveling off to a height and consistent sediment color not unlike that of the house. A few desolate trees stood near the building, and a small stand of taller deciduous trees stood on a green patch several hundred yards away. Had the Major not known the house was there, they likely would have driven by it.

"Helicopter," the Major grinned, his childlike glee providing evidence of the shared genetics between he and his sons. "Picking it up this afternoon when Jim and I take these Jeeps back into town."

"Helicopter," Sydney chuckled, tapping his chin with the side of an extended index finger.

"Can I ride?" Debbie asked, excitement causing her knees to bounce even as her father cringed. "I've never been in a helicopter!"

Turning once more, Parker took in the empty surroundings, observed the nonexistent road they'd driven in on, felt the dry heat of the air, and promptly doubled over to vomit on Ethan's shoes.


	13. Section 2: Two

To those still reading: thank you for sticking with this one

To those still reading: thank you for sticking with this one. I promise more answers to your questions will make themselves clear soon, just as there will be more questions appearing. Thank you for the reviews thus far, and I would really appreciate hearing any comments, suggestions, or thoughts anyone is willing to share!

Thanks again – and enjoy!

Section II:

Part Two

Major Charles entered the smaller living area quietly, taking in the couches seated strategically against three of the walls and the lack of people occupying them. The living room, kitchen, and a single guest room were located on the main floor, while the study, an office, gym, and six other bedrooms were located in the three levels of the house located below. The house had been a convenient find, Major Charles knew, for the only road that would lead a vehicle by the property allowed only a small portion of the house to be visible. The three lower floors were visible only from the other side of the small canyon the house was built near, as the western face opened onto a large ledge below the road level. He had just come from downstairs, where Sydney, Debbie, and Broots were enjoying themselves in the small study he had furnished. Ben was on the lower porch, whittling away at what the Major thought would likely be a gift for Parker's child.

Parker was curled into the side of one of the beige, well-cushioned couches, squinting at a book as she slowly flipped the pages. Occasionally, her eyes drifted from the paper to the corded phone sitting nearby, built to reroute and configure all calls from the private number Jarod and his father had shared over the last two years.

"He'll call soon," she offered, bending down the corner of the book's page and placing it on the table beside her. A hand drifted to move her hair behind her ear as she shifted further into the couch cushion.

He nodded, moving slowly to sit in the matching recliner, which was positioned near where Parker lay. "Do you know where the boys are?"

"I think they're working on cleaning the grill they found in your storage unit. Jim said something about establishing normalcy by grilling out like a normal family," Parker shrugged, chuckling to herself.

"Jim is a genius," the Major nodded, "every bit as smart as Jarod. But he's a boy, and he wants to see the people he loves happy, not miserable."

The brunette drew in a sharp breath, "You know, I did not intend to make this move with you."

"I know," he nodded. "The boys aren't the only ones who can pick up on subtle contextual clues. What I don't know," the older man stated, meeting her eyes with his own, "is why you did."

Miss Parker sighed, knitting her fingers together in her lap and shifting in her seat, eyes locking onto the telephone. "I don't know what to do," she shrugged. "On some levels, I know what needs to be done. I know that above all things, the Centre must not find us. But there are things that the Centre knows, things that are in the mainframe, things that we've all buried in our own minds, that we _need_ to know. Is finding out these potential truths worth the risk of the Centre finding us? And Jarod… Jarod is caught somewhere between a peter pan complex and a superman complex, and somedays the differentiation isn't that easy to make. This could be a lot easier with his help, but he doesn't always understand that there are lines, boundaries." Pausing, she pulled her clasped hands tighter against her abdomen and grimaced. "He seems to have this inability to do anything without recognition, and I'm afraid that asking for his help too soon may expose us to unnecessary risk. Unfortunately, he's already involved and the best way to proceed seems to be evading me."

The Major nodded, "Jarod could be a big help here, but it would be best if we could wait until we can determine…" he sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. "the risk in bringing him into this."

"Until we can determine the paternity of the child, you mean," Parker interrupted.

"If Jarod is the father, there is nothing that is going to stand between him and ripping the Centre into a thousand tiny pieces. The file you showed us, the one about your brother – baby Parker? The child that died? The parents were listed as numbers, with genetic profiles." She nodded as he continued, dark hair falling over his face. "Raines played God with Ethan, played a different kind of God with Donaterase, but the Centre _sanctioned_ the creation of that child, your _brother_. Is it possible that they have…"

"He wasn't… he wasn't my brother," she struggled against the knot forming in her throat, the anger that had taken up residence at the Centre's audacity. "He was Angelo's son, Angelo and Brigitte. They tried… a variety of insemination techniques with Centre employees, even some 'motherless' pregnancies in which the embryos were grown in amniotic chambers. According to the files, Baby Parker was the only success. They wanted a Pretender, they'd do anything to get one. That's how, in part, they were able to determine that the Pretender gene was recessive, that it skipped generations."

"Jarod has mentioned Angelo in the past," Major Charles offered, leaning over in the chair so that he could better hear her lowly-spoken words.

"His name was Timmy," Parker began, turning sideways and pushing her hair from her face. "My mother… my mother loved him, he was a special boy." Tears glistened in her eyes, "But Raines. God, Raines _destroyed_ him! Turned him into a mush-head, an empathy with no ability to function on his own, no ability to be _himself_. Then he was Angelo, not Timmy. Not Timmy." The Major watched as her words faded, her face pulled tight and eyes blinked shut. "All Mama wanted was to save the children so the Centre couldn't hurt them anymore."

After a moment, she felt a hand on the side of her face and the shift in the air as the Major stood and then bent over her. "You are your mother's daughter, Miss Parker. This house is full of the Centre's children, those you have saved in one way or another. Jim, Ethan, even little Debbie. She may not have been one of their experiments, but she certainly would have fallen victim to them had you not arrived here and asked for protection. When you came to us in North Carolina, you said it was for protection for them, your friends." Her eyes slid open and she blinked into his face as he continued, "You are your mother's daughter. The best way to protect these children of the Centre," he removed his hand from her cheek, sweeping it through the air, "is to stay with us, to be safe here. We can do more working together than we ever could apart."

Nodding, she pushed herself backward, lifting into a seated position and indicating to the Major that he should take the seat beside her. "The Centre had access to a limited amount of genetic material to use at their discretion. The selection includes samples ranging from forty-years old to four years old, and was accessed through fertility clinics,"

"Like NuGenesis," the Major interrupted.

Nodding, Parker continued, "and specimens taken from Centre subjects. The cryogenics lab only had samples labeled by number, but the numbers corresponded to either Red File, Blue File, or donor sample numbers. All of the donor sample numbers were stored in the mainframe, and the other records we've had access to on paper for years. I didn't… I don't remember all of the numbers, but I was able to destroy the storage facilities for several of the samples and then altered the thermostat on the preservation chamber for the rest. It would only take 72 hours for the chamber's altered temperature to destroy any chance at viability than any embryos or genetic samples might have had." Her fingers unwound, her hands coming to rest on her own arms. "They had material from all of us. Me, Jarod, Angelo, you. Even Ethan," she shrugged, voice lowering, "and Kyle. Nothing from your wife that I could see. Her samples were probably used at the same rate my mother's were, in the unsuccessful trials. I'm reasonably certain Raines and other members of the Centre's staff had samples stored as well, but I was too angry to be concerned with their samples."

"Do you have access to any information on known genetic pairings?" Major Charles asked, settling into the cushions in a movement that mirrored her own.

"Some," she hesitated. "They were unsuccessful."

"I would like to know," the Major replied, offering what he hoped was a small but strong smile.

"There were several attempts made using Jarod, Angelo, Kyle, Ethan and my DNA," she shuddered, "even my own brother. They wanted to create a child half-me, half-Ethan."

"The Centre knows no ethical boundaries," he growled, voice low and hands curling into fists as he leaned over his lap.

"Or evolutionary ones," she added, "those embryos failed to implant with the exception of one, which resulted in an early spontaneous abortion at five weeks. The only minor successes they had with the program were with embryos built prior to Jim's creation. It seems they experimented with multiple clones and with various genetic combinations at Donaterase. No children were successfully born of any of their combinations, and there were three failed clones before Jim. The cost of the experimentation limited them to the one living, breathing clone of Jarod. Otherwise, we'd probably have dozens roaming the halls."

"Thank God even the Centre has a budget," Major Charles snorted, "and a desire to please its shareholders. God, what would people think if they knew what that place was really doing? What they were supporting?"

Parker shook her head, hands again going to cross over her middle. "There was a premature stillbirth at Donaterase, a combination of your DNA and mine. A boy born at 22 weeks a few months after Jim was born."

Major Charles sucked in a breath, face snapping to the left to look at the woman beside him. "I… how do you…?" he began, watching as her shoulders tensed under his gaze.

"It was in the files, toward the back. I don't think…" she laughed, the sound hollow and a little hysterical, "I don't think you got that far."

"That's why you found us, isn't it?" the Major asked quietly, "You knew I would fight, that we would fight, given the motivation."

"In part," Parker nodded, swallowing. "You deserved to know, so do Ethan and Jarod. There were several fetuses created from Jarod and my DNA, but they all resulted in early termination. It seems that they harvested eleven successful ova from me and a seemingly unlimited supply from the males. My mother's DNA must have run out shortly before the experiments at Donaterase began, and Brigitte did not arrive until Jim was about seven years old. For a long time, they were very careful with the genetic material they had, as mine was the only female samples maintained in storage."

After a moment of silence, the Major shifted toward her, grabbing her clasped hands and pulling one loose. Taking her hand in his own, he held them between the two on the couch. His eyes could not meet her face, so they focused in on the slender, pale fingers. "How did they get it?"

Parker frowned, leaning her head back against the couch. "My appendix was removed when I was sixteen, during summer vacation. And then, before Tommy was killed," her voice caught in her throat. "before Tommy was killed, I had surgery to repair a bleeding ulcer."

"They were harvested then," the Major spoke, "is it possible that they simulated appendicitis and exacerbated your ulcer with fertility treatments? That would have allowed them to harvest a large number of ova at once.

"More than possible," Parker sighed, eyes dropping closed. "The exact manner is in question, but it _is_ the Centre." A dry chuckle escaped her a few moments later. "They even tried experimenting with combining DNA from the male samples into a genetically empty ovum. It was not very successful."

A smile stretched across the Major's face, "Guess there are a few things even the Centre can't do." He patted her hand, then stood to his feet and stretched. "Jarod will call soon, Parker. In the meantime, why don't you rest?" He tugged at her ankles, causing her to slide down into the couch. "Think I'm going to have to go buy my son a new pair of shoes. Doesn't look like your vomit stains are going to come out of a pair of white crosstrainers!"

Groaning, Parker threw an arm over her face and slid further into the couch. "The last house was in the country," she stated, "this is the middle of _nowhere_. When you said Wyoming, I imagined Cheyenne or Cody, a city of some sort at least. Not… this!"

Chuckling, the older man straightened and flung a blanket over her somewhat haphazardly. "Hiding can be done in a variety of ways," he agreed. "But there are a few tricks hidden in this house that I have yet to show you." Having made his way to the door, Major Charles turned back to her and offered a quick wink. "Enjoy your nap, and let me know what Jarod says. I have a feeling that is going to be a very interesting phone call."

Emitting another groan, the brunette turned into the pillow and sighed. _We were friends once, Jarod_, Miss Parker thought. _Remember that._


	14. Section 2: Three

Part Three

Part Three

Without so much as a hello, Jarod barked into the his phone, "Parker's not in Portland, Dad. Has she been in contact with Sydney or Broots?" He was standing in the living room of the house Tommy had bought only weeks prior to his death, the house he had bought to renovate for Parker and himself. It was a beautiful stone and shuttered affair, and Jarod had been perplexed to enter the house and find it filled with sheet-covered furniture and undisturbed dust. The Centre, he knew, was unaware of the house – at least as far as the Mainframe indicated. Jarod had told Thomas Gates enough about the chamber of horrors to indicate to the man that if he were going to get the love of his life away from Blue Cove, it would have to be done discreetly.

Miss Parker's dry chuckle could be heard over the line. It had been only mere moments after Major Charles' exit that the phone rang. Hearing the sound from the floor below, Sydney and Broots had begun trooping up the stairs. She watched the entrance of the room, prepared to silence them with a motion of her hand as soon as they came through the doorway. "Jarod," she greeted him.

Jarod dropped to a covered chair, dust fluffing from the sheet and cushions beneath him. The particulates drifted through the air, catching rays of light as they filtered through the living room windows. "Miss Parker? Where is my dad?"

"Your dad is fine, Jarod," she sighed, "So are the others." The brunette lifted a hand to her lips, indicating for the three new arrivals to be quiet. Sydney sat in the armchair the Major had recently vacated, while Broots and Debbie took up residence on the other sofa. Debbie curled her feet beneath her, looking curiously between her father and her heroine.

"You're with them."

"Yes, Jarod," Parker spoke carefully. "Your father stepped out for a few moments but will be back in a while. If you'd prefer to speak to Sydney or Ethan…" Pulling the phone from her ear, she looked to Sydney, "Say something, Sydney. Can't have him thinking I'm holding you all hostage."

"Jarod," Sydney called, the phone several inches from his face. He was not inclined to take the receiver as he could hear the man's voice clearly over the line despite the distance. "Your father is at the grocery store, Jim and Ethan are outside."

Taking the phone back, Parker spoke again, "Satisfied?"

Growling, Jarod answered, "For now. What the hell is going on? Why the wild goose chase to Portland?"

"Pay back?" Parker suggested, a grin breaking her words. "Not much fun, is it?"

"This is not the time for games. What are you doing with my father? So help me, Parker…"

"Relax, genius. I'm not going to harm a hair on any of their pretty little heads. Fact of the matter is, I needed a little help from people not quite so involved in the machinations of the Centre. Seems they've been running some experiments that I happened to stumble upon courtesy of our good friend Angelo. I'm betting you received some information of the same sort." Parker's eyes focused on Sydney until the last sentence. Ethan and Jim broke into the room, laughing and chasing each other. "Hello boys," she called. "Your brother is on the phone."

"Jarod!" Ethan yelped, and he and Jim leapt as a unit toward the couch. The brunette lifted her feet as Jim narrowly missed landing on them. Jerking the receiver from Parker's hand, Ethan spoke into the phone, "How are you, brother?"

"Just fine, Ethan," Jarod spoke, his tone quizzical as his eyebrows furrowed. He picked nervously at the sheet beside his left leg. "Everyone is fine?"

"Yes, except my shoes are a little worse for the wear," Ethan chuckled, "Oh, hey, no pinching!" he spoke to Parker. "Let me give her the phone back before she breaks my arm."

"Oh please," Miss Parker rolled her eyes and jerked the receiver back from her younger brother. "Jarod, the information? What did Angelo send you?"

"I received a file," Jarod spoke carefully, "but I think it would be better if we discussed this in person."

"No can do, boy wonder. It's by phone or not at all," Parker argued, watching Ethan lean into the opposite sofa arm.

Jim leaned slightly against her as he spoke lowly to his brother. "Why does she call him boy wonder?"

Sydney snorted and Broots' eyes widened in a manner reminiscent of an owl at Ethan's reply, "Pet name."

"I'd like to talk to my father," Jarod stated.

"He's not here, Jarod. If you don't trust me, call back in a few hours. He had some errands to run," she shrugged, rolling her eyes and forcibly tempering her frustration. The man had ways of making her angry that few others had been able to discover. Sometimes, she knew, it took as little as his know-it-all tone of voice or his refusal to believe anyone may possibly be more aware than he of the Centre's dealings.

"I received a file," he spoke after a few moments, and Parker could hear the chair squeak as he pushed himself from it. He paced the floor as he continued. "It gave very vague details of a plan at Donaterase that was being revived due to a recent influx of government funds." Sighing, he ran his hand over his face, rubbing his cheeks and chin roughly. "I believe they are trying to create a new Pretender, a better version of myself. Not a clone but a being that is more compliant, more skilled. Someone they can train from the ground up, Parker, like a computer to do their bidding."

Standing, she paced to the window. "Sounds like you got the same information I did. Before we went to Maine, I had Broots do a little searching. There's nothing on the Mainframe, no paper copies that we could find, either."

"Parker, be careful. The file indicates that they have sought genetic samples from several of the children who grew up in the Centre. I believe they may try to access your genetic material," his words were tense. "They already have mine, my father's. Probably others' as well."

She was internally amazed that he had not considered the fact that they already _had _hers as well. "I destroyed a cryobank before I left, all of the genetic material from the Pretender project was stored there." Shrugging, Parker tapped her fingers against the phone. She itched for a scotch, for a cigarette, _something_. Jarod inspired a need for solace somewhere deep inside of her, a place that could not be sated by pacing and tapping and staring.

His voice was filled with surprise. "There has been nothing on the Mainframe."

"Not everything is," Miss Parker's voice was dry, her thoughts racing. _He did not have the same file_. _They had different sets of information, hers more complete than his_. "Jarod, this file you received from Angelo, does it discuss any specific experiments? Do you know what they're planning?"

Without hesitation, Jarod replied grimly, "Not yet, but I'm going to find out. And when I do…"

_Illusion._ The word shot through her, piercing her mind as swiftly and painfully as any bullet. _Illusion. Illusion, illusion!_

"Jarod," she yelped into the phone. "Jarod, get out of there!" Fingers reached her forehead.

"What?" his voice was confused. "Parker…?

"The file you have, I don't think it came from Angelo. You have to get out of there, I think it might be a trap. Leave the information and go." Her voice was quiet but stern, the tone snapping Sydney to attention as he focused on the movements of her body across the room.

_Illusion!_

"Is this some way of getting the…?" he began.

"Jarod, I really don't care about whatever information you think you have or don't think you have. Find a safe place, call back. Leave everything on you… I think there is a tracker in the file. The voices…"

"Illusion!" This time, the word was spoken from nearby, Ethan jerking to his feet. "Jarod is part of the illusion." Reaching her within seconds, he slammed the phone into the cradle.

"Part of the illusion? Ethan, it's Jarod, he's not…"

"They're looking for Jarod, they think he'll lead them to us," Sydney spoke from his chair in the corner, hunching forward with a frown on his face. "They would never have anticipated his family siding with you and leaving him in the dark. That's what the voices told you, at the house? When you and Major Charles went outside that first day? Not to tell Jarod, to keep him on the outside."

Miss Parker did not move, Ethan's eyes locking with hers. Slowly, he nodded. "They haven't found him yet, but they will."

"We have to help him!" Jim interjected, standing to his feet. "We can't just…"

"They won't take him back to the Centre," Ethan stated with finality, "They just want to watch him until he leads them to us, to me and my sister. That's all they want."

"What? Why?" Broots interrupted, wide eyes landing on Jim. "Wh… what about?"

"I don't know, Mr. Broots. They want their project, why they want both of us…" Ethan answered, words trailing off. His sister's eyes drifted over Jim, then back to her brother, questions written clearly in her shifting gaze. Speaking slowly and with a quiet voice, he continued, "They won't find us here, not yet. We're safe for now." His eyes remained locked to his sisters, her face a shade paler than it had been only moments before.

"Mirage is another word for illusion," Miss Parker spoke, interrupting the short silence that descended over the room. Breaking her brothers gaze, she swept a hand through the air. "Something else is going on here. Something we're a part of, something bigger than this. That's what Mama's trying to tell us, Ethan. There's something _else_."

--

With brow furrowed in confusion and suspicion creasing the lines around his mouth, Jarod slipped from the backdoor of the house. Upon reaching the edge of the property, he left the papers he'd brought in the neighbor's trashcan, folding them carefully over his prepaid cell phone and rental car keys. Falling into a jog, Jarod eased his way through the backyards of the neighborhood, wondering what Centre debauchery they had stumbled into this time, and how it was that Miss Parker seemed to know more about it than he did.

"You hurt my family, Parker…" he muttered under his breath, "the Centre is the last thing you should be worried about."


	15. Section 2: Four

In some ways, I am still very much setting up things to come

_In some ways, I am still very much setting up things to come. In others, we are finally moving toward the "plot" part of this! I hope everyone reading is enjoying the journey thus far. Thank you to those that have reviewed – please continue! I'd also love to hear from more of you, should you be so inclined! _

_Thanks again – and enjoy!_

Part Four 

Miss Parker was pacing barefoot through the warmth of the evening, feet barely thudding against the planked deck before she was going in the opposite direction. Ethan and Jim, as if it were choreographed, leaned against the railing of the long deck, watching her drift toward and away from them.

Ben Miller had casually suggested that he, Broots and Debbie prepare dinner, so the three had ensconced themselves in the kitchen readying a recipe Ben swore his mother had created herself. Comfort food, he had told them, that was still suitable for the warmer than expected weather. Parker had not acknowledged his words, her mind already drifting at hyperspeed toward conclusions she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to reach.

Sydney was seated in much the same position as he had been in the living room, legs slightly apart, leaning into the back cushion, elbows on the arms of the chair. He, like Ethan and Jim, studied her movements. Each of them perceived her, understood her in different ways. Sydney had known the child Parker and the huntress Parker, Jim knew the rescuer and the Centre captive, and Ethan knew the sister and cohort.

After several minutes of silence, Jim broke the silence, though the words seemed to surprise him moreso than the rest of his company. "What does it mean? Illusion?"

The boy's voice, so like young Jarod's, halted Parker in her steps. Sighing, she leaned against the nearest section of railing, looking out over the undisturbed bare earth that surrounded the house. "I don't know." Her eyes flitted sideways toward Ethan.

Ethan shrugged almost imperceptibly. "The voice… all I could make out is the word "illusion". It only says what we need to know, and usually then only if it's of vital importance."

After a short pause, Parker spoke, "I think it may be the name of the… project," she looked toward her middle, then back toward Ethan. "Like Mirage." Further explanation was unnecessary, she knew. Ethan's filename had been known by the entire family before they had even met him.

"Appropriate," Sydney nodded. "Why Mirage? Why _illusion_? If the Centre knew them by these code words, why did they choose those words? What does mirage have to do with Ethan? What does illusion have to do with this child?"

A dry chuckle left Parker's throat. "Seems that even when we find a few answers, there are more questions. Questions we ask, questions we should have asked," she shook her head, the sound of an approaching helicopter meeting her ears.

"It means something," Jim pointed out. "The Centre doesn't just do things without a reason. Why send Jarod a stripped-down version of the file? Why follow him here? What's the point?"

"They want the child," Sydney answered. "The Centre…" his voice trailed off as he fought to find a foothold against his memories. "The Centre believes strongly, as an institution, in the flexibility of the mind. By using the natural intelligence of children and molding it within certain parameters, they believe they can make the mind function in a way that best benefits their goals."

"In other words, best finances their exploits and most pleases the highest bidder," Parker's words were dry.

"Not everything the Centre has done is evil, Parker," Sydney's words were a gentle reminder of Faith, of her mother's work, of Jacob, and of childhood friendships held close and secret.

"They want me alive," Parker continued after a few moments, listening as the helicopter drew closer. Even from such a distance, she could see Major Charles piloting the aircraft toward a flat rocky area south of the house. "They want you alive," her eyes piercing her brother's. "The voices don't mention anyone else, do they? This is about us, Mama's children."

"The Inner Sense?" Sydney questioned, observing the interaction between the siblings. Ethan's head cocked to the side.

"It's more than that," Ethan finally responded, struggling with his words. "She hasn't said so, but it _feels_… bigger."

"An illusion," she murmured, pushing herself back from the railing. "But what is the illusion, and what reality is it masking?" After a moment, she stepped away from the three men and headed down the porch steps toward where Major Charles had settled the helicopter. He was climbing from the moderately-sized bird carefully, propeller slowly turning above his head.

Catching a glimpse of the approaching woman, the Major turned to greet her as she walked closer. "Parker," he nodded, glancing just beyond her to where Ethan stood on the porch.

"Jarod called," the brunette responded, a hand pushing through her hair to keep the propeller-driven wind from tossing it unnecessarily. "I think it was a set-up."

Major Charles' expression creased with alarm, "Is he alright?"

"Yes, yes," she frowned, "but I think the file he was sent came from inside the Centre, Raines or Lyle probably. When we were talking to him it hit me – and Ethan – that Jarod is being used to bring the Centre to me. They sent him the file the day I left, probably after destroying the cryobank. They must have assumed I already knew what we figured out after a few days and decided that I would reach out to Jarod for help, one disaffected Centre spawn to another." Her words were bitter, her tone that of a wounded and lost child. "They thought he would lead them here. Still do, undoubtedly. I told him to leave the file and all of his things in Portland and find somewhere safe to hide out. He'll be in contact again soon."

"Do we need to leave? I have other safe houses scattered throughout the…" he began, stopping when she shook her head at his words.

"We're safe here," her lips pursed as she finished, "For now. Jarod is too. The Centre won't try to capture him as long as they think he will show them where we are. They aren't after him this time."

"I expected those words to sound a lot more comforting than they just did," he spoke wryly, removing several bags from the second seat of the chopper. He handed her one from a local shoe store, shifting the other bags into his free hand. "Give those shoes to your brother so he has something to wear other than my socks."

Nodding without thought, she accepted the bag. "It would be better if I were not here," Parker commented.

"It would be better if you were," the Major easily replied, refusing to start the argument he was afraid would give her ammunition to break away from the group.

Sighing with a resignation she had experienced with few people other than her father, her shoulders slumped. "The voices, they keep saying the word 'illusion'. I don't know what it means, other than perhaps being the project's codename."

"Like Mirage?" Major Charles asked, falling into step beside her as they headed toward the house. At her nod, he continued. "You said yourself they wanted a Pretender with the Inner Sense. Maybe Illusion is just a title that encompasses those roles."

"Maybe," Parker spoke pensively, "but I get the feeling this is something big, Major."

"Bigger than the Centre using DNA from an as-of-yet-unknown male to inseminate you so that you become pregnant without your knowledge or consent?"

Quirking a brow upward, she answered simply, "Yes. I'm just not sure what, yet."

"There are two kinds of illusions," Major Charles added, "Those that cover a thing or place or memory with something that we think beautiful or needed. And those that create something where nothing is, an oasis in the desert, for example."

Miss Parker fought the urge to scuff her toes into the dirt like a child as she felt the frustration build within her, tightening the muscles of her shoulders and back. "I hate this," she finally voiced, "I've lived my entire life with lies disguised as truths and knowing half of the answers. The one decision I should be able to make on my own, whether or not to have a child, who should father the child, what sort of parent I want to be… even that's been taken away. And then my mother," her voice raised an octave, "my mother whispers these words in my ear that don't make any _sense_ on their own, like Jarod's little clues! I'm tired of the little clues, Major Charles, Jarod's and my mother's. I just want to know what to do. I want to sleep without dreaming and go a day without having a red herring arriving at my door. I have never chosen where to live, where to work, what to spend my time doing. The only man who ever loved me was taken because he loved me, just like my mother," her gaze shifted away from the man beside her and the road she was walking down. Veering to the left, Parker's eyes settled on the small green patch a few feet away, the small crop of trees and the grass that turned from lush to sparse at her toes. "I want to love this child, and the Centre is doing everything it can to make sure I resent it as much as I do Jarod." She felt him shift beside her, unsure how to react. The Major's eyes were fixed on her sad, drawn face as surely as her stare was glued to the grass at her feet. "I wasn't always like this; it wasn't always this way."

Finally breaking into the conversation, the Major's quiet voice washed over her. "The Centre has changed us all, Miss Parker. But it hasn't changed you as much as you might think – you are every bit of Catherine Parker, but stronger and wiser, less naïve. You grew up in that place, and it has given you the fighting chance that your mother lacked. When she made the deal with Raines to have Ethan, she signed her death warrant in her own blood. The Centre, Raines, knew you would never agree. The only chance they had to create this illusion, a successful prodigy, was to do it against your wishes." Pausing, he shifted the bags to his other hand, reaching forward and taking the Footlocker bag from his companion. "You were Jarod's only friend for a very long time, Parker. In some ways, you were both stunted as children, Jarod moreso than you. He doesn't know how to deal with that, he doesn't know how to just give you the information you seek." This time it was Major Charles that laughed aloud, "Jarod was locked in that place for over three decades. To him, knowledge that is earned on one's own is the most valuable thing. He doesn't understand that sometimes it is better to just know things than it is to journey toward learning them. And for all of your confidence and rage, you are still looking to your mother for reassurance and guidance. The only way she has to offer it is with one word clues that point you in the right direction, Parker."

She did not acknowledge his words, except to relax the tension of her shoulders. "Ethan is trying so hard to help. I get so frustrated that, between us, we can't figure out what she means. We no longer have access to the Centre mainframe to search for where these clues might lead. Even if we did, it isn't worth the risk. And Angelo… he's still in there, at the Centre. It's the only world he knows but, God, he deserves better."

The Major dropped his hand on her shoulder. "Why do you get frustrated with Ethan and Jarod, but not with me? Their more annoying traits are probably mine genetically," his words were teasing, light.

Parker let out a quiet chuckle, acknowledging his attempt at provocation but refusing to rise to it. "You're something of an objective observer, Major. Outside of the Centre but invested in their actions at the same time." She shrugged, moving away from him and the patch of green, facing the house for a moment before beginning to walk back toward the others. "The Centre has outdone itself this time, throwing all of us together."

Again offering her the bag with Ethan's tennis shoes, he offered her a sad smile. "So it seems, Miss Parker. I'm sure Jarod was certainly flummoxed."

With genuine laughter, the tall brunette responded, "Oh, Major – you have _no _idea."

--

"She's very angry," the Major sighed, sitting down hard beside the psychiatrist. He offered the man one of the two mugs he held in his hand, "and frustrated. I don't know how to help."

"You seem to be helping her just fine," Sydney pointed out, sipping at the cocoa. "Perhaps laughter and distraction are the best medicine?"

The other man shook his head, "I don't know about that, Sydney. I think the unfamiliar environment," he waved his hand around, indicating the house they were seated in, "seems to have made it worse. Or maybe Jarod made it worse. When I spoke to her today, she was angry at Jarod, at the Centre, at the entire situation. Not that I blame her, this is certainly unlike anything I could have ever imagined, even with knowledge of the Centre's inner workings. In some ways, I think she is more of a prisoner of the Centre than my son ever was."

"Miss Parker's entire life was dictated by the Centre – her mother, her father, Jarod, and now Raines and Lyle – and every step she takes to get away from them is met with a brick wall. She tried to leave once, with Thomas Gates," the psychiatrist stared down into his mug, his brow furrowed in concentration. "The Centre ordered him killed, sent her father's wife to assassinate him on her porch. The Centre," Sydney paused, eyes drifting as he carefully composed his words, "is in some ways all Miss Parker knows, and over the last five years she has been repeatedly faced with the fact that every part of her life has been filled with lies and betrayals. And now, the Centre uses her as a human incubator."

"You've looked through the rest of the file?" The Major queried, leaning forward and hunching over his mug.

"Yes," Sydney nodded, sighing into the night air. The two men were seated on the back porch, enjoying the coolness of the light breeze and the quiet of the house. The subject of their conversation had long since led the trudge of the house members to their beds. After a few moments of silence, the psychiatrist began again. "When Miss Parker was a little girl, she overheard her mother being beaten in the kitchen of their house by her father. She was able to block it from memory for a great number of years, and when she remembered, initially the only thing she recalled were her mother's cries for help and the image of Raines leaving the house during a storm, looking up at the window. Mr. Parker and Dr. Raines had been discussing Catherine's meddling with Timmy – Angelo," he corrected, "and Mr. Parker was very unhappy. He hit Catherine several times, badly enough that she had to check herself into the emergency room later that night. Miss Parker was able to block the memory but Catherine… Catherine was not. After several days of trying to talk to her, she finally came to my office and told me what had happened. She was angry, frustrated, betrayed. I imagine that is how Miss Parker feels, right now. Like the only thing she has ever known has betrayed her in the ultimate way. She feels as if she was raped, though I am certain she would never word it in that way or even consciously put the thought together."

Major Charles' shoulders slumped noticeably, the word hitting him in the gut. "She was, wasn't she? Knocked unconscious under the guise of medical treatment, had her eggs harvested for medical experiments. When they failed, they simply knocked her out and inseminated her with unidentified donor sperm. If that's not rape, I don't know what is." Pausing, shifting in his seat, he continued. "I think she's afraid she won't love the child, and who could blame her?"

Smiling to himself, Sydney continued without a beat of hesitation. "Regardless of the methods of conception, don't let her fool you – Parker already loves that child more than most could ever imagine. I have met very few people in my life that feel things as strongly and deeply as she does, Angelo and Ethan being the others, sometimes Jarod. Survival at the Centre requires that one know how to shut those emotions down and keep them locked safely away where they cannot be used by those who would twist them to their own advantage. For a long time, the only way Parker let those things out were through drinking, smoking, and sex. After a while – after she met Thomas – even that didn't work anymore. He taught her to let go, and she found parts of herself I feared lost," taking a sip of his cocoa, the psychiatrist continued. "She may resent the method of conception, she may be angry that the choice was taken from her, she may be confused about what is happening and what the Centre has planned, but that woman would move hell and high water to protect a child that isn't even born yet. Remember, she was just as willing to do anything to get Jim out of the Centre and Ethan away from Raines' clutches."

Nodding hesitantly, the Major stared out into the darkness. "Do you know what this illusion is?"

Shaking his head slowly, Sydney sighed, "I have spent enough of my time lying to people and covering up Centre secrets. If I had any idea of what they were doing at Donaterase, I would have stopped them. And if I knew what _Illusion_ meant, I would have told Parker the moment she mentioned the word." Standing to his feet, the man moved slowly toward the screen door. Pulling the door open, he added, "Rest well, Major."

Setting the mug on the wicker table beside him, Major Charles threw his feet up on the bench and stared into the darkness, swatting at a gnat that flew near his face. He and Margaret had been shattered when Kyle and Jarod were taken, and his wife had never fully recovered. When Emily entered into adulthood, the two of them had gone their separate ways, Margaret with Emily and Major Charles on his own. It would be easier to find Jarod if they were looking from separate locations, they had agreed. But in his heart, he knew that Margaret had never forgiven him for letting Kyle and Jarod be taken away, later for letting Kyle die under the thumb of that _place_. He had only met Miss Parker once before the day she had shown up at his door, yet he felt the same fear he felt with Margaret when Emily was a young child. Another woman was depending on him to protect an innocent child from the Centre. Except this woman had been betrayed – essentially _raped_, he corrected, Sydney's explanation of her behavior fresh in his mind – by the same people they were running from, her own family. Somehow, this seemed so much _worse_ than it had a few days before.

Major Charles shifted upward, stretching his arms above his head. After a short yawn, he pushed the door open and headed for the kitchen table, where he had last see the laptop. Reaching for the pot of coffee he had brewed earlier in the evening, he thought to himself, _time to do some research_.


	16. Section 2: Five

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

_Her mother was pulling the brush through her hair, seated behind her on the bed. Little Miss Parker was sitting on the edge, staring at her reflection in the mirror. The bedroom was not her own, but she felt comfortable there, safe. "Let's read, Mama."_

_The dream shifted as soon as the first words were uttered, her mother's smiling reflection fading in the mirror. Parker lay curled on her side, arms under the pillow. Her mother sat beside her in the open space left by the bend of her knees. _

"_Listen to me, sweetheart. I don't have much time," Catherine whispered, voice tinged with a sort of desperation her daughter had never before heard._

"_I'm listening, Mama. What is it, what's wrong?" Her own voice had aged from just seconds before, the timbre remarkably like that of her mother's. _

"_Some illusions are real," her mother told her, hand resting against her daughter's cheek. "Find what is real, find what is not. Be careful, sweetheart."_

"_What do you mean? Mama?"_

"_Listen to me, sweetheart. Secrets and lies, these illusions. Not everything is as it seems. You are real," her mother's fingers drifted to her stomach, pressing against the soft flesh. "This is real. Protect this, it's what they're looking for."_

"_What who is looking for?" Parker pushed herself into a seated position. "Mama, what's going on?"_

"_Damned are the souls of those who read the scrolls," her mother whispered, eyes locked on her own. "Illusions," her mother's hand burned against her stomach, the touch searing into her flesh through the fabric of her gown. "Don't let them take the key or the prophecy will be fulfilled."_

"_What prophecy? Mama? Mama, you're hurting me!" She pressed her mother's hand away, fighting against the flames of her fingertips. "What illusions? Mama, I don't understand!"_

"_You already know the answers."_

"Miss Parker!" Major Charles shook her right shoulder again, watching as she squirmed closer to the edge of the bed, her body curled in on itself. With a jerk, she sat upright, arms wrapped around her middle and eyes owlishly wide. She blinked hard against the low light from the bedside table, eyes fixed on the Major's face. He was still dressed in the day's clothes, sleep creasing his features. He had fallen asleep at the kitchen table while reading through the websites Jim had bookmarked for him in the days previous. After finally deciding to head downstairs to the bedroom, he had had logged off the laptop and sleepily walked down the hallway. Her cries for her mother pierced his level of semi-consciousness, causing him to sit on the edge of the bed and attempt to urge her awake. "You had a nightmare," his voice was quiet.

She opened her mouth, trying to form the words to explain. Closing her mouth, she swallowed, then tried again. "My mother," Parker croaked, "she said things that didn't make sense, things about illusions. She was hurting me," her voice dropped to a whisper.

"Hurting you? Miss Parker, Catherine would have never hurt you," Major Charles' voice was gentle, yet she still flinched away from his touch when he reached to place his hand on her shoulder.

"I…" she frowned, "No, I know. Her fingers, they were like flames, burning. She was talking about illusions. Saying that they were dangerous, that I knew what the illusions were. But I don't know what she meant. It's fuzzier than the premonitions," Parker's right hand flipped through the air, "the visions, usually are."

"Maybe it was just a bad dream, Parker," Major Charles offered, this time resisting the urge to reach out. Her eyes drifted from his, settling on her left hand, pressing her spread fingers more tightly against her stomach. "If Ethan had the same vision he would probably be in here already."

"He doesn't always have the same dreams," she shrugged, her right hand reaching tentatively across the comforter for his left arm. "I don't know what she meant, Major," her expression open and worried as her eyes met his.

"It's late," he said after a moment, "Maybe it will make more sense in the morning," the older man smiled, patting the hand on his arm and pushing himself to a standing position. "Things always look better in the daylight."

"Stay?" Parker's tone was like that of a child begging for a reprieve, "I don't want to sleep. Not yet, not right now."

Major Charles nodded slightly, cocking his head to the right and crossing his arms. Taking a seat in the chair near the end of the bed, he asked, "Is there something you'd like to talk about?"

With a sigh, the brunette pushed herself to a seated position, leaning against the headboard and pulling the comforter higher against her body. She curled the top edge in her fists. "I'm sorry for earlier today, yesterday, whatever it was. The things I said had nothing to do with you."

"It's okay, Miss Parker," Major Charles smile was gentle. "We are all in difficult positions; yours is a little more precarious than most."

"I'm used to being angry," she spoke, struggling with the words she could not find a way to voice. "I don't know why I feel so strange."

"When Margaret was pregnant with Jarod, she would fly into uncontrollable rages every now and then. Threw a brass statue at me once, then promptly burst into tears," he shrugged, eyes growing fond, distant, with memory. "That was probably from the hormones."

Miss Parker did not smile, choosing instead to watch the way his expression shifted, how he seemed to travel back in time to that single moment and relish the time before things changed, before the Centre took over all of their lives. She wondered what that was like, to remember a time _before_ the Centre. Pulling the comforter higher, she crossed her arms over the top and released her clenched fingers.

Major Charles drew in a hesitant breath, expelled it slowly, then stood from the chair. Taking a few steps closer to the bed, he laid a hand near her feet and raised questioning eyes to her face. After receiving a nod, he took a seat on the foot of the bed. "I spoke with Sydney tonight, after you had gone to bed."

"He's worried," Parker replied, nodding her head slowly. "That's Freud, always has to be worried about something." The touch of dryness in her tone was affectionate, fueled by the knowledge that Sydney was, and always would be, Dr. Sydney Green.

"It might make him feel better if you would talk to him," the older man suggested, one corner of his lips quirking upward. "Even if it doesn't benefit you, that is." Parker chuckled but did not respond, so he continued. "You're right, he's worried about you. He said…" the Major's voice drifted off.

Her expression was pointed, questioning. "He said what?"

"He wants to help you. He said that what the Centre did to you, harvesting your ova, then inseminating you against your wishes… it's nothing short of rape, Parker. He is afraid that if you don't deal with it now, it will eat at you from the inside."

"I wasn't raped, Major," her voice took on a harder edge.

"Weren't you?" he asked, laying his hand on the part of the comforter covering her ankle.

Turning her face from his gaze, shoulders slumping inward, Parker sighed. "No," she let out a tired, bitter laugh. "Not really. I guess the invasion is fairly similar but not the intent. I," pausing, again struggling for the words, "I don't know. It never struck me that way. The Centre, what they did, what Raines had them do," she slid her hand lovingly across her stomach, "it was with the specific purpose of creating a child, _this_ child. And despite all of that," she waved her free hand in the air toward him, "Despite all of that, I love it. I'll do anything to protect it from the Centre, and from these _illusions_, whatever they are."

Catching her hand, Major Charles offered a cautious smile, "I know that, Parker. We all do. We just worry that in the process, you're not going to take care of you. That child will need its mother." He didn't add the words that came to mind, _especially since we don't know if it even has a father._

Parker nodded into a yawn, spurring him to stand once again and push gently on her shoulders. "Speaking of which, you really _do_ need to rest. I'll stay until you fall asleep, but you have to promise me you'll speak with Sydney. I think it would be beneficial to both of you."

She nodded once again, grasping the covers in her hands and pulling them up to her chin as she curled on her opposite side. "Thank you, Major."

He patted her shoulder once more, then again took his seat, letting his mind wander until she fell asleep.

--

Breakfast was both quiet and early. Most of the occupants of the house had fallen asleep early, exhausted by their urgent travel and settlement into their new, but temporary, home.

"Where's Miss Parker?" Debbie asked, seated beside Jim at the table, the two young teenagers digging into bowls of cold cereal. The girl had giggled when her counterpart had insisted they try Fruity Pebbles. Her initial protest was founded on the belief that she had long ago outgrown the sugary cereal, but she quickly gave way when his face flooded with sadness.

"Probably still asleep. Women in her condition need more sleep than we do," Jim answered as he chewed. Frowning, he continued, "What about Dad?"

"Fast asleep," Ethan answered, entering the kitchen from the hallway. "I heard them talking last night, they must have fallen asleep late," he shrugged, snatching a bowl from the counter before pausing to examine the cereal selection.

Broots, seated across from his daughter, glanced to the man on his left, "Ethan, do you think Jarod will call back?"

The dark man nodded, pouring cereal slowly into his bowl. Tapping the box on the side of the counter as he closed it, he added, "Yes. Soon."

"Did… did the voices tell you that?" Broots asked, brow furrowed in concentration. The theory behind heightened perception had always fascinated him, but the exact mechanisms through which the siblings received information was more of a puzzle than a science.

"Not exactly, Mr. Broots. It's more of a sense, just… just something I know. It only works with certain people, those I am close to like Jarod and my sister."

"Miss Parker can too," Debbie interjected, "She always knows when I'm having a bad dream." After a pause, she frowned, "I wish I could do that."

"We all have gifts, Debbie," Sydney replied, catching her father's panicked expression from the corner of his eye. "Miss Parker's is just different than most."

"If that ain't the truth," Parker drawled, walking quietly into the room. The dry tone of voice did not match her appearance. Broots drew in a sharp breath, taking note of the red flannel shirt she wore over her jeans and long sleeved shirt.

"Miss Parker!" Jim greeted as Debbie smiled around her spoon, "Would you like some cereal?"

"No thank you, Jim," her smile was a little wan as she pulled out a chair, slipping into it before sliding her hands through her hair and leaning her elbows on the table.

"Bad night?" Sydney asked gently, noticing the way she had pulled Thomas' shirt tight around her as she entered the room, the drawn look upon her face.

"Nightmares, visions, I can't tell them apart anymore," she sighed, rolling her face against her right hand to gaze at her psychiatrist friend. "Did you see anything, Ethan, in your sleep?"

Her brother shook his head, dropping his spoon back into his bowl. "I don't always see the things you do, sister. Only sometimes. It's possible our mother is trying to tell you something that I'm not receptive to, in theory at least."

Rolling the thought through her mind, Parker frowned. "I don't know, Ethan. My dreams, visions, they tend to be tied to memories. I know my first dream was of Mama." Sydney studied the confusion that etched across her face as she spoke of her mother, unsure as to its origin. "After that, they don't make any sense. And I don't _remember_ anything, not really."

"Maybe they were just dreams?" Ben suggested, wiping his hands off at the sink. Newly cleaned dishes were stacked next to him on the counter.

"You're probably right, Ben," she offered him a smile.

"So, Miss Parker, what is on the agenda for today?" Sydney queried over the rim of his coffee mug, trying to look as casual as possible about her response.

"We need to find a way to access the Centre mainframe from here. A way that won't have sweepers here within the hour. I want to know more about this Illusion project, anything you can find," she spoke, eyes flitting between Broots and Jim. "Jim, I'd appreciate your help covering our tracks. You two may be able to help each other. If anyone knows their way around the Centre mainframe, it's Broots."

Blushing from the praise, Broots nodded to the boy. "We'll have to design a secure connection and decrypt the daily passphrase, then access the Blue Cove main frame." Frowning to himself, he noted, "This would be a lot simpler and more secure if we had access to a blue box."

"Blue box?" Ethan asked, swallowing a mouthful of corn pops.

"Each Centre office has its files backed up on a blue box that is encrypted. Every Friday night, each Centre office backs up its files into the Mainframe. If we could gain access to a blue box, then reach the storage facility and decode the information, we could see everything in all of the mainframe until the codes are re-encrypted. That means everything from every computer the Centre is connected to, not just the permanent files stored in the mainframe or the files transmitted each week," the computer technician explained.

"That's what Lyle stole the blue box for, years ago. If he decrypted the codes and sold the chip, whoever had the blue box could access _everything_…" Parker thought, "He never intended to sell that blue box, did he?" The rhetorical question hung in the air for several moments, until she continued, easing to her feet slowly. "Broots…"

"I know, I know. We have to steal a blue box and sneak it into the closest storage facility at 11:59pm on Friday," Broots groaned into his orange juice.

Chuckling, Miss Parker stepped carefully toward the counter, still trying to assure her body that she would make no sudden movements to incur the wrath of nausea she had avoided. The people seated around the table, their mere presence and proximity, eased her frayed nerves. Though Tommy's shirt was still comforting, it did not seem as necessary. "Actually," her eyes filled with mischief, "I was going to ask you what the best way to approach this would be. Clearly, the question was unnecessary. First, we need to find out what the nearest, least occupied Centre satellite office is. After that, we find a way to disable the surveillance system, temporarily incapacitate the employees, and steal the blue box."

"If we replace it with another system," Jim interjected, "we could set it up so they would not know we had taken the original blue box. Perhaps even design a mechanism that would allow us to access the newly backed up information as it is encrypted and uploaded."

"Or manipulate the information," Ethan smiled at his brother, knowing a plan was already formulating in the young Pretender's mind.

"I thought the information couldn't be decrypted?" Parker asked.

"If we gain access to the blue box and can copy the original codes, then the decrypted codes after a trip to the main storage facility… we can probably crack it. Nothing is truly random when it comes to computers," Ethan replied, grinning at his sister. "Raines trained me to decrypt and encrypt Centre codes. It's how I knew to change the path of the subway train in DC."

His sister flinched at his words, momentarily flashing back to the image of Ethan and Jarod on the train, her gun trailed on them as they bounded toward the front of the train. The two slices of bread in her right hand fell to the countertop as Angelo's voice sliced through her mind.

"_Illusions… are real. Mirages… are real."_ Ethan leapt from his seat, rounding the corner of the counter and planting his hands on his sister's sides as her hands raised to her temples.

"I'm fine, Ethan," she batted his hands away from her, offering a small smile at his concerned expression. Firmly, she planted her feet against the internal urge to wobble. There was a thought niggling at the back of her mind, fighting to break loose, but she couldn't put her finger on it. "This information we're looking for, it's not going to be easy to find. It won't be obvious. I think," she frowned, not noticing Ethan's hand as it clasped around her to steady her. "I think it has to do with all of us." After a pause, her eyes settled on Sydney's confused face. "Not all of _us_," she used her free hand to drop the bread into the toaster and lower the lever. "Ethan, Jarod, Angelo, me. The scrolls," Parker's words trailed off as Major Charles slipped into the kitchen, rounding behind the counter near where she and Ethan were standing. "This has something to do with the Vespatian Scrolls. My mother," her eyes drifted to Ethan's, moving her arm from his grasp, "Our mother… I think she read them, Ethan. I think she's trying to tell us something about the scrolls."


	17. Section 2: Six

Part Six

Part Six

"The scrolls?" Major Charles frowned, waving the siblings toward the kitchen table. He grabbed Parker's plate and flipped the toast onto it, snagging a bottle of water in his free hand. "Jarod told me about your trip to Carthis. He said the two of you _found_ the scrolls but that your father…"

Interrupting him as he placed the plate before her, Parker answered, "Yes. But we didn't read them. Ocee… Ocee said that whoever read the scrolls would be faced with eternal damnation," choking off a dry laugh, she continued. "Not that I'm particularly concerned about anyone's interpretation of the state of my soul, but they killed Ocee over it. And others." Shuddering, she placed her hand over her stomach. "We couldn't figure out why Margaret wanted them so much that she would go seek them out on Carthis. Knowing what death and destruction lay in their wake…" her voice trailed off as Major Charles sighed, taking a seat beside her.

"I've heard of the scrolls only once, Parker, and it was from your mother," the Major stated, staring at his hands as he twirled an old gold wedding band on his ring finger. "She told Margaret she'd heard a terrible story, about a scroll written in God's hand. Words that could save the world if the scrolls fell into the right hands, or destroy it if they fell into the wrong ones. She said they were written like the books of the Bible, a prophecy. Catherine never discussed the content of the scrolls, or told Margaret that she read them. At least, not to my knowledge."

"How did she know my mother?" Parker asked.

"Margaret told me once that they had been roommates in college. Beyond that, I know very little of your mother separate from the Centre. She and Margaret saw each other several times a month until Jarod was born. Not long after that, she met your father. A few years later, you were born. I didn't see your mother again until Jarod was taken," the expression on Major Charles' face fluctuated between tired, sad, and something akin to amused. "She never let you out of her sight. You clung to her legs most of the time. She wanted nothing more than to find our son so that we could bring him home. After Emily was born, Jarod and Kyle had both been taken… we ran to keep them safe. Catherine intended to take you, Jarod, and another boy from the Centre and raise you until she could get back in touch with us. They must have found out…"

"I don't think they did," Miss Parker answered, clasping the water bottle between her hands and shaking her head, words she had never spoken but pondered for years rising to the surface. "I think that they may have known my mother was inclined toward doing something about the Centre, but they never intended to kill her until after Ethan was born. They killed her because Ethan was the last thing they needed… after that, Mama was a liability. When she faked her death in that elevator, she _knew_ she was pregnant, knew that they wouldn't hurt her. This is… about something different, a plan or a project that Ethan, Jarod and I are all integral parts of. Maybe Angelo, too. Probably others, including Jim. Baby Parker, my little brother was probably a key player, too. And my child. I know who the players are meant to be, I just don't know _what_ it is they wanted to do. What we're looking for on the mainframe, it's going to be fragmented and probably require a lot of leaps in logic."

"If this is truly a plan they've been pulling together for over thirty years, they are not going to just let it go, Parker." Sydney's words elicited a nod of agreement from the brunette.

Jim and Debbie watched from the far end of the table, occasionally sparing glances at each other as they listened to the conversation around them.

"No," Major Charles agreed, "they aren't going to simply let this go. That's why Mr. Broots and I are going to find this blue box. Jim and Ethan can design a decryption program while we're gone. You," he nodded to Parker, "and Sydney can try to piece together these phrases and visions you're picking up from your mother. Ben and Debbie can help you get it all sorted and on paper, along with other pertinent information we may not all be privy to at this point. If we intend to defeat the Centre, we're going to have to trust each other. Clearly, this will be much simpler if we are working from the same information."

Parker's gaze held steady, once more examining the man beside her as if trying to ascertain his level of trustworthiness. No one spoke, and the Major felt as if he should hold his breath. After a few moments of silence, she gave a sharp nod then pushed herself away from the table. Placing their fate on the table made her ever-present urge to vomit rise with a vengeance.

He watched as she turned the corner out of the room, heading for the nearest bathroom. Turning to Broots, Major Charles spoke. "Where is the nearest satellite office, Mr. Broots?"

"Uh… Denver, I think. Denver would be the one with a blue box we'd want. I'll have to find the nearest storage facility…" Broots replied, pushing his chair back hastily. "I can…"

"No need, Mr. Broots. Today is Friday, so we can't do much in the way of getting this blue box until after midnight, if I understood you correctly. For now, we'll just lay out the best plan of action we can."

Ethan eased out of his seat and slid around his father, a soft smile on his face as he slid behind him and headed after his sister.

"What about Jarod?" Ben asked, voicing the question the Major and Sydney had both been pondering as they watched the young man exit the room.

"He'll call back when he's reached a secure line," Major Charles assured. "Jarod knows enough about the Centre to know that whatever is going on here," he lifted the nearby dishes into his left hand, stacking them on top of each other, "is sensitive."

"What will you tell him, Major Charles?" Sydney asked, placing his chin into his upturned hand.

"Nothing yet," the other man responded. "Just that we are trying to work out the best way to gain access to all of the Centre's records. After all, at the moment we know very little. Everything we have here, on a larger Centre conspiracy, is supposition. Nothing else need concern him at the moment." Eyeing the stack of dishes before meeting Sydney's gaze, he nodded his head. "I want to protect my son just as much as you do, Sydney. There's no use telling him something that may or may not be true, just to get him riled up and ready to engage the Centre in a battle to the death."

--

"Miss Parker?" Debbie called, slipping into her bedroom and spying the older woman sprawled across her bed.

Upon seeing the girl approaching the edge of the bed, Parker reached for her hand and tugged, pulling Debbie up beside her. "How are you, Debbie?"

Shrugging, she leaned her head near Miss Parker's, laying claim to the other half of the pillow. "I'm okay." After a short pause, the girl sighed, "I miss my friends and my things… but I'm glad to be here with you and Daddy, and all of your friends and family. I don't… I don't really understand, Daddy won't explain what's really going on."

Reaching an arm behind the girl's head, the older woman turned to her side, eye's meeting Debbie's. "Your father loves you, Debbie. He's just trying to protect you."

"He's _not_ protecting me, Miss Parker! I know something bad is going on. I heard you and Major Charles last night, I came to your room when I heard you having a nightmare but he was already here. Daddy always told me to be careful of the Centre and that if I saw anything strange to tell him or you right away. Everything was _normal_ a few weeks ago, then all of a sudden Daddy and Sydney were picking me up at school and driving to Maine. Then you left, and we followed you to North Carolina. Now we're in Wyoming. All I know is that the bad people at the Centre did something to hurt you and you think they're coming after us to do something even worse! I'm scared and I don't understand." Tears welled in the young teenager's eyes as she turned her face to the left, finding herself almost nose to nose with her idol and friend.

"Debbie… Broots, your dad, he doesn't explain a lot of what is going on because we don't really know very much. It's your father's place to tell you these things, not mine," she stroked her hand through the girl's hair. With a sigh, Parker bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth. "I'll tell you what I think you need to know, okay?" Debbie nodded against her, and the two settled on the bed as she began to speak.

"You know my mother died when I was very young? The story I had been told of how she died was not entirely true, but we only discovered that last year. You see, Ethan is my baby brother. My mama died right after he was born. Ethan is very special, like Jim in some ways," her tone was soft, thoughtful.

"Like you?" Debbie asked, eyes wide and serious.

With a sad smile, the older woman continued. "Yes, like me. Ethan and I, we hear voices. My mother called it the "Inner Sense". It tells us what to do, sometimes, kind of like that feeling you get when you know something is wrong? Instead of just getting that feeling, we hear things, and sometimes have visions. Ethan… doesn't seem to have the visions, or premonitions, as frequently as I do. The voices sometimes guide him to act out parts of them, though."

"What does that have to do with the Centre?" the girl prodded, rolling to her side to completely face Parker.

Taking the girl's hand in her own, she placed it over her flat stomach. "You know I'm pregnant, right Debbie? That I'm going to have a baby?" Watching the girl's slow, hesitant nod, Parker smiled. "The Centre created Ethan. They performed a procedure on my mother called artificial insemination, which means that they anesthetized her – like for surgery – and used Major Charles' genetic material to fertilize one of her eggs." Parker knew she was skipping the dirtier parts of the explanation, but figured she would ask whatever questions she needed the answers to later. "That's why Ethan is my brother, but Major Charles's son. This baby was created the same way. I didn't even know about him until last week."

"But why? And is it Major Charles' baby too? Like Ethan?"

"I don't know the answers to those questions Debbie, I wish I did. In a few weeks we'll probably be able to figure out who the father is. As for why the Centre created this child… I don't know. Ethan, Jarod, Angelo, maybe even me," she laid her own hand over her heart, "The Centre used us for experiments. We _were_ experiments. They trained us to be a certain way and to perform certain duties. But we don't know why, or what they planned for us."

"Did your mama know? You said at breakfast that she was trying to tell you something," Debbie reminded her, uncertain eyes flicking between Miss Parker's face and her own hand.

"I think she knew at least part of the reason; I'm not sure if she knew everything or if she is just trying to lead us to the answers based on what she already knew. She has led us this far," she said solemnly. "She may be able to guide us the rest of the way."

"Remember when I first met you?" Debbie asked after a moment of silence, "how we opened the present your mama gave you on the day she died? I told you I'd never open it because if I did, there wouldn't be any more presents from your mama."

"I remember," her smile was sad, but her eyes glistened with fond memories.

"Your mama has lots more presents for you, Miss Parker. I was wrong," she snuggled in closer, breathing in the scent of perfume. She did not have to look up to know the older woman was pleased with her words. Debbie curled her free hand under her chin, the other still laying over Parker's abdomen. "What will you name the baby, Miss Parker?"

With a chuckle, Parker lay her hand over the girl's. "I think that's a long way away, Debbie. Besides, I have a feeling this on will tell me his name when he's ready." The girl's brow crinkled in confusion, leading the brunette to answer the unasked question. "When my mother was pregnant with Ethan, she said Ethan told her his name…" her voice trailed off. "She always told me, when I was growing up, that I had chosen my own name long before I was born. That must be how she named me as well."

Looking up at her friend and confidant, the girl blinked slowly, a shy smile forming on her lips. "Miss Parker, what _is_ your name? Your real name?"

Sudden tears sprung to Parker's eyes, remembering the last time she had heard someone call her by her first name. It was the morning her mother died, just before they'd left for the Centre. Little Miss Parker had been not-so-secretively eyeing the present leaning against the back of the couch. Her mother had leaned down, tweaked her nose, and told her to be patient. As if she had known the day was going to forever alter the paths of all their lives – and, Parker could finally acknowledge, maybe she _had_ known – Catherine gathered her little girl close and whispered words of love in her ear. Jarod had tried to call her by name once, shortly after her mother died. She'd cut him off as soon as she realized the word was forming on his lips, telling him that it was a name that no longer belonged to her.

Blinking back tears, the sudden moisture glistening on her eyelashes, Miss Parker leaned closer to Debbie and whispered the answer into her ear.


	18. Section 2: Seven

This part was originally about three times this length

_This part was originally about three times this length. However, since the next portion is a little weirder… I decided to split it in half! The next portion should be up tomorrow._

_Thank you again for all of your reviews and comments – I really appreciate it! Feedback also helps me steer the "minor movements" of the story, so never doubt that you have an impact on both the writer and the material! Enjoy!_

Part Seven

"Miss Parker!" Jarod almost-shouted into the phone, yet another prepaid cell from his seemingly endless stash.

"Jarod?" Major Charles spoke into the phone, "Parker is in the other room."

"Dad," the word fell affectionately from his lips. "Are you okay? And Jim and Ethan? What's going on there, why is Parker with you?"

"One question at the time, son," the Major replied with a chuckle, smiling at Jim as he sat on the couch between him and Ethan. Sydney had settled in across from them mere minutes before, a psychology journal in his hands. Broots was in the study with Ben, trying to point out the basics of computer literacy to the older man. "Everyone is fine. Jim and Ethan are right beside me."

"Dad, what happened to the house? I heard there was a fire, was anyone hurt?" Jarod spoke anxiously over the phone.

"Everyone is fine, Jarod. Yes there was a fire, but I set it myself. Was a little concerned the Centre might be getting too close for comfort," his father stated, words cautious but true.

"Did Parker tell them where you were?" he demanded.

"No, Jarod. Miss Parker is here because she wants to be, and we want her here. She has been a big help. Stop worrying, son, everything is fine." Major Charles met Ethan's eyes over Jim's head.

"May I talk to him?" Ethan asked, extending his right hand for the phone. Without question, Major Charles placed the receiver in his hand. "Jarod. How are you, brother?"

"Ethan! I'm fine, if a little confused. Can you tell me anything about what is going on?"

"I wish I could, Jarod. We don't really know what's going on, only that the Centre is planning something dangerous. My sister and I are trying to help the others get more information on their recent activities," Ethan replied, hunching over and squinting mindlessly at the papers on the coffee table.

"I don't understand. There doesn't appear to _be_ any strange Centre activity on the radar right now – aside from the usual. The information I was sent indicated Raines and Lyle were starting a new project, or perhaps already had… I cant seem to find any further details on it from the outside. Has something else happened? Or is it your Inner Sense?"

"Nothing yet, brother," the younger man fudged a little, "but the voices are telling us that something _is_ happening, or is going to. Hold on a minute, here's Dad again." Shoving the phone back to his father, Ethan pressed himself further back into the couch, worried he was on the verge of telling his brother too much, too soon.

"Jarod? Listen, I need you to do me a couple of favors. I've managed to move us to a secure location – don't try to find it just yet. We are working on a plan to access some Centre files you may not be able to get to from the mainframe alone. It's still in the planning stages, so we need a little more time before they pick up our trail. Keep them guessing like you always do, son, and as soon as we figure out what is going on, we'll let you know." Major Charles stood to his feet, stretching his back to pop a few kinks that had settled in his spine.

"Dad… I'm not sure this is a good idea. The Centre…" Jarod began, only to be interrupted by his father.

"Jarod, I've been dealing with that place since before you were born. Between us, we can handle it. Right now, the best thing you can do is wait. If you want to throw out a few false leads for them as well, it would be appreciated. Just make sure you stay a couple of steps ahead. We have reason to believe they may be trying even harder to find you now that Parker is gone as well."

"Speaking of The Centre, Dad… Were you able to find somewhere for Sydney and Broots?"

"Yes," Major Charles began again.

"I have to go, Dad. My transportation is here," Jarod watched as the metro train raced toward him. "Expect a video message in the next few days, once I find a place to set it up and a secure line. Take care, Dad."

"Goodbye, Jarod," the Major answered, placing the phone back in the cradle. Turning to Sydney and placing a hand on his youngest son's back, he stated, "I'm not sure he will respect my wishes, Sydney. But I covered our tracks well on the way here, and Jarod does not know about this place. If the Centre is watching him, it will take a while before we have to worry. Enough time to set this plan in motion, at any rate."

"He didn't question why Parker was here?" Sydney queried.

"Beyond what I told him? Not yet. He sounded like he was in a subway station, probably just hasn't worked through the details. He knows that something is up, and that whatever it is, it is bad enough that Miss Parker left the Centre behind and came to us for help. He's going to lay a few false trails for them to follow, maybe that'll divert their attention – and his – for a few days."

Nodding, Sydney paused. "He does not know you brought Broots and I along?"

Shaking his head, Major Charles added, "Or Debbie or Ben. He didn't give me time to explain, and I'm not sure I would have. I believe he intended for me to move you to a safe house, not keep you with us."

Rather morbidly, the other man asked, "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?"

"No," a chuckle broke through his reply. "Keeping our allies alive so they can continue being our allies!" With a small sigh, he added, "Parker wanted you here. I believe it may have been her intention all along that you just arrive in separate groups. If she came and did not receive a comfortable welcome, she probably would have found another way of securing you a safe house. When she arrived in North Carolina, she asked us merely for help hiding the three of you – and Ben – from the Centre, while she figured out what was going on. After reading the file, it was clear that she would need help. Besides, we have a vested interest in the outcome of this. The Centre's present activities must be stopped. No one person can manage that, not even a Parker."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm probably not really a Parker then, isn't it?" the subject of their conversation interrupted, walking barefoot into the room with her young charge. Before any one ventured to speak, Miss Parker smoothed her shirt down over the waistband of her jeans, having peeled Thomas' flannel shirt off in the bedroom, "Jarod called?"

Major Charles nodded, "Miss Parker…"

Sparing him a brief smile, she moved toward the couch. "What did Wonder Boy have to say?"

Ethan rolled his eyes at the term, breaking into the conversation. "Not much, once he was sure you weren't tormenting us with cattle prods or anything."

She shot him a sly smirk. "Oh, but the day is young, Ethan!" Smirking, she turned to the other men. "So, where are we at?"

"Wyoming…?" Jim ventured, confused by the question. Debbie giggled and flopped down on the floor beside him, shaking her head.

"I told Jarod we were working on a way to access the Centre mainframe more securely. He's going to lay a few false trails and give us some space for now. He's aware that the Centre is working on some sort of project, but only because of what he found in the mainframe last week and what we've told him," Major Charles broke in, eyes drifting between the two siblings.

"What exactly did Jarod find in the mainframe, Syd?" Parker questioned the man to her right.

"Jarod was… directed toward a file embedded in the Centre mainframe about Project Mirage redux. The file contained information on your DNA and on Major Charles'. It was linked to a file on your brother's – Brigitte' son, Baby Parker – autopsy. His death was ruled an accidental overdose, he inhaled too much of his asthma medication. It happened during the time you were missing," the psychiatrist explained, voice low and controlled as always.

"Accidental overdose, my ass," she muttered, knowing Raines was behind the act. "Directed to the file? How?"

"That I don't know, Miss Parker," Sydney shook his head. "Do you think it was a plant to get Jarod involved?"

Parker nodded, "Probably. But there's no way to prove it. What we need right now is Broots and some information. We may not be able to do anything about what's already happened, but if we can determine what they have planned we'll be in a much better position to prevent it." Looking to the girl seated a few feet away, she asked, "Debbie, will you go get your father?"

The girl scrambled to her feet and headed for the stairway, taking only a few steps down before calling out, "Daddy! Daddy, Miss Parker wants you!"

Sydney chuckled beside the brunette, who shook her head and wiped her hands over her eyes. "That'll fuel his fantasies for weeks."


	19. Section 2: Eight

Part Eight

Part Eight

Broots had stumbled up the stairs, Ben on his heels, and after bumbling his way through his first few sentences, sat at the desk near Parker's seat on the couch. Jim had gone into the living room and retrieved the laptop, then talked Debbie into joining him in an attempt to make a late lunch for the group.

Parker and Major Charles sat side by side on the couch nearest Broots, with Sydney in an arm chair nearer to the opposite sofa. Ben and Ethan, along with the other men in the room, watched Parker leaf through files and Broots begin typing in a terminal window.

"We need the location of a nearby satellite office – not too close and not too far – and the location of a separate Centre storage facility. We'll have to access the blue box at night, when there is less chance of a confrontation with Centre employees. Cameras will have to be disabled. And it will need to be done within hours of when the mainframe back up takes place. The longer we have the blue box, the more likely the Centre is to catch us. Once we have it decrypted, we can come back here," Miss Parker spoke, spreading the files over the table in front of her.

"B… but I thought we wanted copies of the information before it was decrypted?" Broots asked, scrunching his brow as he looked at Parker.

"We do. We'll just take the laptop with us," Major Charles answered, eyes focused on Parker's hands as they swept over the tops of the files.

"We?" Broots asked, a look of dread sliding over his face.

"Yes, Mr. Broots," Major Charles' tone was amused. "You, me, Ethan, and Jim. You're the only one who knows what this blue box looks like and where it will be. Ethan will access the encrypted information, and I'll be your muscle in case there is trouble. Jim will wait for us at another location in case we get caught before we take the box to the storage facility for final decryption." Before Parker could interrupt, the older man continued. "Parker will stay here with Sydney, Ben and Debbie. Someone has to ensure the Centre doesn't catch us and to maintain contact with Jarod in case we need his help. The risk is greatest for you, if you are caught," his eyes lifted from Parker's hands to her face.

"This is my fight, Major." Her voice was firm, mouth set in a stubborn line.

"This is _our_ fight. Every one of us. We have all been used and abused by The Centre, and none of us want to see them get away with it. The only chance we have to break the cycle is this one, Parker. If we can find out why the Centre wants you, Jarod, and Ethan so badly, we may be able to stop them. But if you are caught, you're damning your child to the same life you and Jarod have lived," he argued, turning to the left to face her.

Broots concentrated on the monitor in front of him, trying to force himself to be oblivious to the argument going on around him, while Sydney and Ben watched with interest. Ethan closed his eyes, feeling the waves of emotion wafting from his sister. Sadness, frustration, anger, and so much _pain_.

"My mother's plan… the one she wanted me to finish… this is it, Major Charles. This was the plan. Save the children, find out _why_ the Centre stole the children. It's about more than what's in our blood, it's about more than our gifts. It's something so much bigger the Centre wants, and to get it, they need us. My mother _died_ trying to save me – and Jarod and Ethan and Angelo. She _died_, Major. So many people have lost so much to that place, and you want me to just sit here?" She stood to her feet, fighting the urge to pace up and down the room. "Sydney, a little help?"

"I'm sorry, Parker," Sydney answered in his trademark slow, deliberate voice. "I'm afraid the Major's right. You have to do what is best for the child you are carrying, despite your drive for revenge." Wise eyes followed Parker and the Major as the other man stood to his feet beside her.

"It's not about revenge –" she began, only to be cut off by the Major's gentled tone.

"We know," he broke in, taking her gesticulating hand in his and tugging her back down to the couch. "What we're doing here won't make right the wrongs that place has perpetrated. But we may be able to save others from the same fate, including the child." For a moment, the Major forgot himself, time and barriers slipping from his mind as he placed his palm flat against the woman's stomach, the warmth of his hand burning through the t-shirt above her low-cut jeans.

_A child, wet and crying placed against a naked breast. Catherine Parker, the force of a bullet throwing her to the floor of the elevator. Angelo, scribbling in chalk on the wall of the SimLab, screeching "Terribilis est locus iste!" Broots, throwing the lights in an elevator as Miss Parker stumbled against him, blood dripping from a wound in her arm. Catherine Parker, standing at a cracked kitchen doorway, black eye standing out stark against her pale face. A young girl taking the seat beside a young Jarod, whispering into his ear, pressing her lips against his. Parker, holding the body of a man against her, blood drenching her white bathrobe as she sobbed against the top of his head. Jarod, falling to his knees on the coast of Carthis. Ethan, his arms wrapped around his sister as a fire smouldered around them. A rain-drenched Parker, falling to her knees in a graveyard of Parkers. Miss Parker, with fuzzy vision, staring up at Raines as he lowered a sheet over her legs. Thomas, wrapping his arms around a flannel-dressed Miss Parker, laughing into her hair as a smile broke across her face. Sydney, clasping a hand over a little girl's, both dressed in black as people milled around them. Angelo rocking forward, muttering, "Illusions are real!" _The images flashed as a black and white montage behind his eyes. Each flash lasted only milliseconds, falling rapidly into the next image. The rapid cycling of emotion and image made the older man gasp for air.

Jerking his hand away from her, he expelled the breath he'd been holding, words echoing through his mind. _"My name is Jarod_." For a moment, he wished he had left his hand only a second longer – enough to see his son as a child, to see his Jarod happy with his young friend. He had not recognized all of the people, could not place every situation he had witnessed. More importantly, the Major had no idea what precisely had just happened.

"Sister?" Ethan called, breaking the silence of the room. What for the Major and Parker had lasted several minutes had, in reality, only taken the passage of a few seconds. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Miss Parker sank into the couch, moaning low in her throat as she took her head in her hands.

"You didn't see it?" the Major croaked, looking curiously at Ethan. At his confused expression, the Major tried to form the words to explain.

"Ethan?" the brunette interrupted. "My head? Can you…?" she waved toward the kitchen with her free hand, then experimentally lay it over Major Charles' wrist. His eyes snapped immediately to her fingers. When nothing happened, they each let out a sigh of relief. "Those things you saw," she spoke lowly, "that has never, I've never…" her words trailed off.

"W…what is going on?" Broots stuttered, "You don't look so good, Major Charles."

"I think I just saw into her memory," his voice was quiet, filled with a sense of confusion.

"W…wh…what?" Broots yelped.

"Not my memory," Parker rasped, letting go of the Major's arm to accept the water and Tylenol Ethan was offering her, having blown back into the room. "It's like the dreams, the premonitions. Sometimes they're mixed in with the past."

"You saw it?" Ethan frowned, crouching on the floor beside her. "I… I didn't."

Leaning her head forward against Ethan's shoulder, "It wasn't a premonition, Ethan, just flashes of the past, things I've been thinking about in the last few days."

"Is it possible…" Sydney suggested, "that your gift is becoming stronger, Parker? Perhaps, as your pregnancy progresses? Your mother mentioned a similar progression, though I dare say she never projected her thoughts to others. The strength of your emotions could be causing them to project through physical contact…"

"All the more reason for you to stay here, at least until Sydney can ascertain the strength of it," the Major interrupted, shaking the moment off for further analysis later. Catching her eyes with his, he softened his expression. "Miss Parker…"

With a short nod against Ethan's head, Parker sighed. "You're right. Someone needs to coordinate things from here, and if I'm with you… I'll stay." Ethan slid forward with her words, pushing his father toward the end of the couch and taking the seat between them.

"Here, lean on me, sister," he spoke, voice quiet. Brushing her hair from her face, Parker offered him a smile and leaned her body toward him, understanding his need to be the one to offer comfort in matters concerning their joined gifts.

After a moment of silence, Ben and Sydney exchanged concerned glances, neither able to make eye contact with Major Charles, whose gaze had turned inward.

Clearing his throat for a moment, Broots interrupted the quiet. "I think, uh, I think I have an idea. The Denver satellite office is the closest one, and the next closest storage facility is in Portland. That's probably not a good idea though, since Jarod's already been there. So, how about the satellite office in Denver, then we travel to the storage facility that is _in_ Denver? If we grab it right before we need to take it to the storage facility, we should have enough time to copy the drive, and get to the storage facility before the Centre knows what's going on. We could leave in two days, on Thursday."

"Maybe Jarod can divert Lyle's attention, get him away from the Centre for a few days?" Sydney nodded to Broots.

"With any luck," Parker interjected, "They'll think it was Lyle… again. It should buy us a few hours, at least. We'll have to work out some sort of system with Jarod, but as long as he gets in touch in the next few days, it should work."

Snapping back to the present, Major Charles spoke, "Good work, Mr. Broots."

"Thank you, Major," Broots smiled, nodding his head rapidly. "I think with Jim's help, we can also build a component that can be inserted into the storage facility's backup server and will download all of the files on all of the Centre mainframes. It will take a little bit of time, but it would be worth having. And, I think we should also work on a chip that will give us remote access," scratching his head, Broots continued, mumbling mostly to himself.

Utilizing his sense of timing, Jim called from the kitchen, "Lunch!" With the added assurance of

Before Parker could move away from the sofa, Major Charles reached across Ethan and took her hand. "Miss Parker… I apologize if I inadvertently invaded your thoughts in some way, but I must admit some of what I saw… was very confusing."

Chuckling dryly to herself, Parker patted his hand and stood from the couch. "Tell me about it. I have a feeling this is one even Syd is going to have some trouble figuring out."

Deep inside her, cells continued to divide.


	20. Section 2: Nine

_Hello again!_

_This is the last part in Section II – the next will begin Section III. I think I'll wait a few extra days before resuming my posts here – drum up a little interest, increase the suspense, perhaps? Oh, who am I kidding? Expect more in a few days! _

_In response to a few comments - the Parker I'm exploring here is the Parker we saw at the end of Season Three, throughout Season Four, and in the movies. The evolution of the character after the question of heredity and the introduction of Thomas are of particular interest._

_This note is more personal and less related to the plotline, but is still relevant to the subject at hand: In many ways, this story has been an exorcism of sorts – an experimental look at the sometimes tragedy of birth families and the potential to build others over time and distance. When this is complete, I can move on to a series of books I've been outlining and re-outlining in my own mind. Yet, at the same time, I have put off completion of this story for several years now. Finishing this is closing a chapter of my own life, and there are moments when, as hard as I have fought to get to these last pages, writing the final few words seems more difficult than writing the first few._

_So here is to us – the children of secrets and lies, betrayal and tragedy. May we – like the Parker and Jarod of Steven Long Mitchell and Craig W. Van Sickle's imaginations – find our own missing pieces, our own inner peace, and a refuge to call our own – whatever, whoever, or wherever that may be. Know that no matter your origins, regardless of your bloodlines, you are who you want to be and family is what you make of it._

_Without further adieu – and thanks for the indulgence – the story continues,_

_NDV_

Part Nine

It had been almost two days since Broots and Major Charles had outlined the plan for lifting the blue box from the Denver satellite office. Jim, Ethan, and Broots had spent the remaining hours of the first day outlining two computer components, one a transmitter and the other a terabyte microcomputer that would automatically copy the remote files from all of the facilities the Centre was responsible for maintaining. The hardware structure of the microcomputer was based from a prior model Ethan had used in his attempts to carry out Raines' mass-assassination plot in Washington. The transmitter was not at all unlike one Jim had helped Jarod design years prior to plant on Parker's computer at the Centre. Her initial annoyance at learning the information quickly faded as Jim outlined the usefulness of the device in accessing updated information remotely. Unfortunately, the chief limitation of the transmitter was that it would allow access only to the files physically on that hard drive at any given time. In order to gain access to future files on the Centre mainframe, they would need to break back into one of the storage facilities and tap in remotely, or plant a transmitter in the hardware of the Centre mainframe in Blue Cove. Though Parker had not voiced the thought, the benefits of such an ability was quickly outweighing the risk of getting caught – at least in theory. How to break into the Centre when the facility had inevitably increased security after her departure was another matter entirely, definitely worthy of more examination.

Thursday morning had not yet dawned over the horizon as Parker crawled from beneath the sheets of her bed. Sleep had not come easily the night before, and wakefulness had been as unwelcome as the nausea that caused it. Hunched over, she eased carefully to the window seat of her bedroom, once again thankful the Major had offered her a room carved into the canyon-side of the house. Parker curled forward toward her knees and grabbed a decorative pillow Ben had brought from the inn, holding it tight against her stomach.

He had presented it to her the night before as she stood on the porch, staring out over the setting sun as the silence of the evening settled around them. He had been whittling, carving from a large block of wood what she could already tell was a gift for her child, a being he was intent on looking after as he would any grandchild. Her back was to Ben, her hands wrapped around an ever present mug of tea, the one thing that seemed to calm both her nerves and stomach. Major Charles had brought her the hot tea, physically wrapping her fingers around the curve of the cup as she stared into nothing. He had not yet worked up the nerve to speak to her about the images that had passed through her touch into his own mind, preferring instead to wait until he had sorted through them himself. Parker had offered him a small smile as she looked at the fading sunset, worry knotting her stomach as she thought of the trip half of their group would make when the sun again made its appearance. There were moments when the Major reminded her so much of Jarod, handing her a cup of tea to calm her nerves as his son had done on the Isle of Carthis.

Ben watched in silence under the guise of carving the rounded bottom of the wooden block he had acquired in North Carolina. Like Parker's tea, the slide of his knife against the oak calmed his anxiety. After a few more minutes of silence, Ben stood and slipped inside the creaking storm door, returning moments later with the pillow tucked in his fists. Embroidered on the white fabric were the initials CEP, a curling strand of ivy framing one side of the letters before sliding off into the scalloped edge. Ben stood beside her, taking note of the empty mug. He reached forward and removed the mug from her hands, causing her eyes to drift from the distant horizon to the face of the man beside her. With a soft smile, Ben sat the mug on the table to his left, then slipped the small pillow into her hands.

"Your grandmother made this for your mother when she was a little girl," he offered, watching her face as her eyes flicked from Ben's face to the face of the pillow. Tentatively, the fingers of her left hand drifted to trace the letters embroidered in a simple, scrolling blue. "She left it in the rocking chair in my bedroom the last time I saw her. Never could bring myself to move it," he shrugged, eyes following Parker's shaking fingers.

"I…" she struggled to form words, fingers tracing the E that stood for Elaine. "My mother loved you."

Ben gave a short nod, smiling tenderly at the young woman. "Yes, Catherine loved me and I loved her. But more important than that, she loved you. And I think this belongs to you, now. There's another rocking chair that pillow should sit in."

Lowering her brows and pulling the pillow to her chest, Parker's eyes met Ben's and a small smile stretched across her face. "Mama would have been a wonderful grandmother," she ventured.

Nodding, the older man placed a hand on her right shoulder blade, unknowingly laying his palm over the place where she had taken the bullet meant for a man she had once called Daddy. "That she would have."

After a few more moments of silence, Parker inhaled the dampness of the cooler night air, then spoke. "Tomorrow is going to be a long day, Ben."

"Yes," he agreed, "I think Ethan and Jim just went to bed. They've been studying the building blueprints that Mr. Broots managed to locate earlier today. I think the Major is preparing a video message for Jarod should he get in contact with us while they are in Denver." After another pause, Ben applied pressure to her shoulder, steering her toward the door. "Bed would probably be a good idea, Miss Parker. Why don't you go rest? An early night seems like a smart idea for all of us."

Smiling kindly at the older man, she allowed him to guide her toward the door and pull the screen door open. "That does indeed sound like a good idea, Ben. Thank you," she released one of the hands holding the pillow and squeezed his arm. "Good night." He watched as she turned the corner, still holding her mother's memento against her chest.

Sleep had not come easily as she stared out the window into the darkness, and when it had it was filled with nonsense words and fragmented images of things she could not remember. Of late, this had not been particularly unusual, though Parker had to admit it was a trifle annoying and reminded her far too much of her insomnia-plagued teenage years.

If anything happened to her brother, Jim, Broots, or Major Charles, she wasn't sure how they were going to pull this off. Ethan was the twin-brother she had longed for, though they were separated by a decade in years. His heart was so much like her own, his gift so intertwined with hers. Functioning without Ethan to interpret some of the messages her mother tried to pass through the Inner Sense was a thought that made her weary. More importantly, she had grown to love Ethan, an emotion she certainly never felt toward Lyle. Jim reminded her so much of a young Jarod that her heart physically hurt when she turned a corner and unexpectedly saw him sitting alone. Broots was one of her best friends, and certainly her most trusted. He was not part of the Centre, yet he was close enough to it that he understood the horrors the place perpetrated and would defend her ability to dismantle them at every turn. And Major Charles… exactly what Major Charles was, she had yet to define. He was both an ally and a confidante, and she was beginning to consider him a close friend. They were bound inextricably by the Centre, much as she and Jarod or she and Angelo were. Both of them had their families ripped away at the whim of Raines and his cronies; both of them had been used in ways no human being should ever be manipulated. Two days ago, he had seen into her memory. Whether that was through the growing strength of her Inner Sense or the potential gift of the child she carried, she was unsure. One thing, however, Parker knew was very clear: she and Major Charles were tied together by more than mere Centre manipulation. It was entirely possible, she recognized, that the child she carried was his. If not, it was likely his grandchild. The weeks to come would bring answers to those questions. But, Parker thought, that still doesn't explain how he was able to see what I was thinking when he touched me. I think it's time to speak with Sydney about this thought projection I seem to be doing. Why, she had wondered, had this happened only with Major Charles? Was it merely the fact that her emotions were in such turmoil that the strength allowed her thoughts to cross the boundary of her mind, much as her mother's voice crossed the boundary of death? Or was it a matter of timing – the placement of his hand timed with the strength of her mental anguish? Was it the child? Or was it something else entirely?

As her thoughts ran their course, Parker leaned toward her knees, surprised to find that she could not quite touch her forehead to them. Slipping her hand to her stomach, she smiled lightly and laughed to herself, knowing that it was still as visibly flat as it had been days ago. However, her upward movement caused her stomach to roll unpleasantly. Biting back bile, Parker moved swiftly toward the attached bathroom, leaving the pillow on the window seat and clutching her hand to her midsection.

Moments after entering the bathroom, the brunette pressed her face against the side of the bathroom cabinet, flicking the handle on the commode. The door creaked open behind her, and her eyes drifted closed as she heard the water faucet turn on. A few moments later, a cool rag was placed against the back of her neck as a hand swept her hair to the side. Major Charles settled on the floor just behind her, knees bent awkwardly and arms resting over them. She had yet to see his face, but recognized the scent of his cologne. Only days earlier, she would have flinched at the presence of another in her bathroom, or would have at least bit back a sarcastic comment. The exhaustion and frustration of the past few days and the concern over the success of their plan had driven away any remaining concern Parker had over maintaining her distance. After a moment of leaning carefully into the cool side of the cabinet, she turned her head to the right, taking in the image of the older man positioned uncomfortably on the floor. Leaning backward against the legs positioned only inches behind her, she sighed, rubbing the palm of her hand across her stomach in an effort to calm the rolling. Major Charles soon frowned, finding her effort had been unsuccessful as she lurched forward again, hanging her head over the toilet and heaving dryly. Scrambling to his knees, he tried to offer support but she flung her hand backward, gesturing for him to give her space. It would be several minutes before either of the two were able to leave the bathroom.

Upon returning to the comfort of the bedroom, Major Charles offered a small smile while guiding her toward the bed. "Jim heard you. He thought it would be a good time for us to talk about the other day."

"While I was hurling?" she queried dryly, an eyebrow arching perfectly.

Shaking his head, the older man offered a chastened smile. "I think he meant after."

"Now?" Parker sighed, crawling between the sheets of her bed and patting the other side. She nodded at the older man and continued. "I guess now is as good a time as any. The whole thing might be an unwarranted distraction while you're in Denver."

"With four of us making the trip, what happens in Denver has very little to do with what I saw the other day, Parker," his voice was wry. "They were memories?"

Parker nodded, shifting to her right side. "Everything the Centre has taken. Mama. Tommy. The truth. My choices." Each phrase was punctuated by a short pause, her voice low and contemplative. "My friend, my brother."

With a sigh, Major Charles leaned backward against the headboard. "I recognized everyone else – Tommy must have been the man who died?"

"Yeah," her voice softer still. "Tommy was," bottom lip drawn between her teeth, "he was everything to me." With a bitter, quiet laugh, Parker continued. "That was the problem. I tried to leave the Centre for him, and they killed him to prove that I could never leave that place."

Major Charles watched as she swallowed against the breath caught in her throat. "I'm sorry for your loss," he finally spoke. "But we, all of the people in this house – and Jarod – are here to make sure that the Centre can't take anything else from any of us. The Centre is a widespread organization that covers six of the seven continents. No, we probably can't take it down. And no, we probably don't want to because the price in terms of human lives and truths would be too high. But we can make damn sure we're safe and that they know we're going to be watching them, always. Maybe we can change the way they do business, maybe we can make the government think differently about their Centre contracts. We can make a difference here, Parker. We have to."

"I know," she replied with a chuckle. "We're going to bring that place to its knees in more ways than one. I just wish I could see the look on Raines' face when he realizes we're behind it." She picked at the edge of the pillow beneath her head.

"Margaret and I agreed when Emily was young that it was better if we went our separate ways. We were afraid that they would come after her, too. After all, they'd taken Jarod and Kyle already. From time to time, we'd cross paths in our search for the boys, especially before we knew Kyle had been killed. Once Jarod was free, we tried to reunite. Unfortunately, for Margaret and Emily to meet Jarod, I had to cover the trail – and vice versa. Emily had settled into her life in Pennsylvania by then. There were no signs that she had any of the Pretender abilities so evident in Jarod when he was a child, and the Centre never showed any interest on her, even after her assumed names were shown in the bylines. This was, of course, before you brought the information explaining that particular genetic foible. Margaret and I… we learned to lead separate lives out of necessity. Our search for our sons and our need to avoid the Centre were the primary concerns for most of our marriage. We were so young when we met… The Centre took away the possibility we had to raise our children, be a family, live our lives together. You've seen Margaret more recently than I have," Major Charles spoke, voice tinged with sadness even as he inserted a quiet laugh at the end. "I don't know if our marriage would have lasted had the Centre never entered into the picture, but I like to think we would have given it our best shot."

Parker blinked against the tear that threatened to leak from the corner of her right eye into the cotton of the pillowcase. Against every command she issued her body, her mouth tugged downward into an involuntary frown. "I didn't know Thomas for very long, just a few months. But I love – loved – him and wanted to start a new life in Portland, even if the city itself didn't appeal to me," this time her laugh was genuine. "I was so pleased when I thought he was talking about Maine, we'd have even been close to Ben. But Oregon? That was a pretty tough sell."

Major Charles grinned back at her, letting out a laugh of his own. "You're certainly not enjoying this slower-paced Western United States lifestyle, are you?"

Shaking her head ruefully, Parker sighed. "Afraid not, but I'll get used to it if I have to." After a few moments, she continued, voice a few octaves lower. "I want to thank you for your help, Major. This was not what I came to you for, not really."

The older man nodded, gaze drifting past her form to the vista view behind her. "You and I are a lot alike, Miss Parker. And Catherine… you are certainly her daughter. She tried to help me, once. I never had the opportunity to return the favor. When you appeared on my doorstep, when you showed me the files you'd taken from the Centre…"

"You decided to return the favor," Parker finished, eyelids lowering over her eyes, heat emanating from beneath the lids.

"In a way, yes. You're also my son's sister. And perhaps my friend," he offered a small smile, "Besides, I never could resist a damsel in distress."

Miss Parker choked out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. "So that's where Jarod got it from."

Major Charles shrugged his shoulders, laughing quietly. "Guess so."

He could not discern whether her next movement was involuntary or not as she eased her body a few inches closer, a tear slipping from her tightly closed eyes. "It's funny, hearing Mama's voice makes me miss her even more. And Tommy, God. I never wanted children, I never even thought of it. But God, I wish this were Tommy's baby. I wish he were here."

Shifting sideways, Major Charles lightly rested an arm over her shoulders. "I know, Parker, I know."

It was only a few minutes later that he slipped from his seat on the opposite side of her bed and stretched upward, gazing at her face, streaked with sadness even in her sleep. With a small sigh, he pulled the covers to her chin and turned against the image, leaving her room and closing the door behind him. It was, he knew, time to wake his two younger sons and Mr. Broots.

In the next twenty-four hours, the balance of power between the Centre and their small band of refugees was going to shift, one way or another. If their plan was successful, it would be in their favor – and the Centre would not even know it. Denver was waiting.


	21. Section 3: One

_Well, this is the sound of my caving and posting another part considerably earlier than was planned. Thank you for the great reviews - please feel free to keep them coming! I have to confess I've grown quite attached to my e-mail in the last few days as I've waited to see what you thought! This part is a little longer than usual... more to come over the weekend._

_Thank you again for reading and reviewing - and enjoy! _

Section III

Part One

When Parker rose from bed on Friday morning, half of their group had departed for Denver. Ben had taken Debbie on a walk to gather dried herbs, an excuse for Sydney to have time to sit with Parker.

"How are you feeling this morning, Miss Parker?" Sydney had watched her as she stumbled into the kitchen, pouring herself a mug of coffee. Choosing not to advise her to limit her caffeine intake so early in the day, he opted for the standard question.

"Like I swallowed a roller coaster," she groused over the rim of the mug, inhaling the steam as it rolled over the dark liquid.

Chuckling, the psychiatrist shook his head. "While I'm certain that's an unpleasant experience, I meant how are you _feeling_, Parker. About the situation." His eyebrows arched slightly as she snorted in response. "Your emotions have been rather unstable of late."

The brunette let out a bark of laughter, "Ya think?"

"My life has been uprooted – I'm in the middle of nowhere pregnant with some unknown specimen's offspring, and I'm hearing voices and seeing ghosts at every turn. The only person who might possibly understand it – my little brother – may be on a suicide mission, and I'm stuck here being useless," she stated, barely restraining herself from slamming the mug into the table. "And to top it off, I'm vomiting at every turn and can't seem to stay awake more than a few hours at a time. I'm just dandy, Syd."

"I see you're still not a morning person," Sydney commented dryly before switching to an earnest tone. "I can understand your feelings, Parker – at least on an intellectual level. I merely want to help you in any way I can. We all do, it's why we are here."

Blowing a long breath between her lips, sideswept bangs fluttering, Parker nodded. "I know, Syd. But it's not that simple. Every time I feel like I've conquered one part of this…" she waved her hands aimlessly in the air, "debacle, something else pops up in its place. One piece of the puzzle fits and the next one doesn't."

Nodding sagely, the older man commented, "For the first time in your life, Parker, you have the opportunity to sit and analyze these pieces, as you call them. Your emotions, your dreams, the visions and voices. Once the child comes, you may not have that opportunity again for many years."

Sighing, Parker took a long swallow of the coffee. "Being on the run kind of puts a halt on introspection, eh Freud?"

Chucking, Sydney shook his head. "No, but being a parent certainly limits it for at least eighteen years. Parker, if this works out – if we're able to gather enough information on the Centre to keep them away from us, we won't be running for the next eighteen years. Not in earnest. I rather relish the thought of being Uncle Sydney, the gray old man who lives next door to the young one." The Belgian's most charming smile had stretched across his face.

Unable to resist the grin, she offered one back. "I can just see it now," she toasted the air with the mug, shaking her head. Sipping at the coffee, the brunette paused for a few minutes to put her thoughts together. "Sydney?"

"Yes, Miss Parker?" he replied, tone sincere as he sipped his mug of tea.

"I've been thinking… about these visions and voices. I think maybe I've been seeing things, hearing them, longer than I realized. Some of the dreams I've been having lately have been so _familiar_. Not the dreams themselves but the way they… feel. When Tommy died, I saw him so clearly. I came to you and we discussed unfinished business. But I think it was more than that. I think he _was_ there, the same way my mother is sometimes, the way Faith was there when I was hospitalized. And before that, there were times when I just knew things, without any rhyme or reason. Where Jarod was at a given time, what Angelo was feeling, things like that. Did my mother… did she mention anything like that?" Her eyes had opened wide and she held his in her gaze as she spoke.

Sydney reached a hand across the table, placing his over the one not wrapped around her coffee mug. "I'm afraid not, Miss Parker," he shook his head. "But your gift, your Inner Sense… I think it's stronger than your mother's was, and it's coming out in you without most of the training your mother had."

"Training you gave her," she pointed out.

Nodding, he continued, "Yes. Your mother had a vision here and there, and she began hearing the voices when she was pregnant with you. Mostly, she just felt things. Trouble, danger. She had a heightened intuition, you could say. That's…" he sighed, "that's how she explained it to me, anyway. I'm afraid she did not give me the sort of details you desire."

"But how is _my_ Inner Sense," she paused, blinking at his expression of sincerity. "How is my Inner Sense stronger than hers? Sydney, I'm projecting images to other people! Do you think it has something to do with my father?"

"Truthfully, Miss Parker, I have no idea what to say about the occurrence on Tuesday. It sounds rather like a form of empathic telepathy, but as an isolated incident it gives me little to go on," the older man sighed. "As for the strength of your gift being related to your father: quite possibly. Genetically speaking, it would make sense if your father were a carrier of the particular variant of the Pretender gene that enables the Inner Sense in women."

"Guess that narrows the possible list of candidates," she took another swallow of her coffee, savoring the taste before swallowing it. "Not that it helps much."

Sydney watched her, knowing it was the first time since Carthis that she had openly questioned her own paternity. "Miss Parker…"

Shaking her head against what she knew was coming, Parker slid her hand from beneath his and held it in the air. "No, Syd. Really, it doesn't matter. Maybe someday I'll know, but right now, we have more important things to worry about. Like what Illusion is, if the Centre had any contingency plans for it, and what the point of this entire _thing_ is? I hate to say this, but I'm with Jarod. I don't think they want him back just because he's a pretender anymore. Or me. Or Ethan. There's something else going on and I'm determined to find out what it is."

Raising an eyebrow at her, Sydney polished off his cup of tea and again placed his hand over hers. "Won't that be easier once we have the information from Denver?" He watched her shoulders visibly lower, her ire deflating slightly. Her eyes slipped from his, darting to the side. "Or is it just easier to think about what the Centre is doing than what you are doing separate from it?"

"Nothing I do is separate from the Centre," she bit back, then sighed as he moved slightly sideways to try and capture her eyes with his own. "Right now, Syd, all I know is we have a really big mystery on our hands that needs to be solved."

"And the child?" he asked, expression remaining unchanged as she jerked her hand from beneath his again and cradled her abdomen with it. The psychiatrist did, however, note that she seemed not to notice the gesture.

"What about it?" her voice was cautious, low. "Still don't know who the father is. Voices aren't revealing that sort of information. All I know is Raines was behind the insemination."

"Are you going to keep it, raise it?" Sydney asked, knowing the answer before she even opened her mouth.

Somewhat defensively, Parker replied, "Yes. I'm thirty-nine years old, Syd. It's sort of the end of the line for me on this one."

"I wasn't aware you wanted children, Miss Parker."

Chuckling quietly to herself, "Neither was I, Syd. I don't, really. But this is already said and done, so what the hell?"

He could not help the grin that graced his face at her forced nonchalance. Eyes drifting deliberately from her face to the hand over her flat stomach, then back to her face, he let out a small laugh. Rolling her eyes, Parker removed her hand and placed it back around the empty coffee mug. Leaning forward slightly, she sighed. "It wasn't something I was very likely to ever do on my own, no. But when I began to suspect – before I left the Centre a few weeks ago – the idea struck me as kind of appealing. Despite the circumstances," she shrugged her shoulders slightly. "I… when Tommy was alive, he mentioned it a few times. Jokes, suggestions, comments. Nothing serious, really. I was more than slightly disturbed at first but the idea grew on me. After he was killed, when I delivered Brigitte's baby, there was a moment there - as I held him in my arms - that I thought about taking him and running for the door. It was fleeting."

"Your mother had similar doubts," Sydney nodded, "but never once did she doubt her capacity to love you. She was, however, terrified." Parker nodded to herself, ingesting the thought. "Had Thomas lived," Sydney began, "and the two of you had moved to Oregon as planned, do you think you would have wanted children?"

Without a thought, the word slipped from her lips. "Yes." Eyebrows arching at her own words, a small smile crossed her face. "But that was with Tommy."

"You loved him very much," Sydney observed, not for the first time. "This child… while it may not be his biologically is, in many ways, your dreams of a life with Thomas coming to fruition. Freedom from the Centre, a family of your own." Her surprised, puzzled expression did not phase him. Nor did he give her time to digest it. "What if the child's biological father is someone you know? Perhaps even someone living in this house?"

"You mean Major Charles," she commented, the expression of intrigue from his earlier statement still not completely faded from her eyes. If anyone had finished reading the files she'd brought with her, it would have been Sydney. And if he read the files in their entirety, he knew about the Centre's failed attempts with surrogates and artificial carriers. Fingering the handle of the mug, Parker looked at the drying stain on the inside. "I don't know. And if it's Jarod's? I still don't know. That's the monkey wrench, Syd."

Nodding, the older man stood and lifted both of their mugs from the table, leaving her hand to palm the bare wood and her nails to tap against it. "That will come with time, Parker. What matters is that you know where _you_ stand with the child, and with the people involved. If not now, then before you have your answers as to paternity. This ambivalence toward Jarod, while not unfounded, can't be healthy. Sort of like this coffee."

Offhand, Parker commented, "Don't think for a minute that I didn't notice the Major switching that bag for the decaf he brought the other day. My hellish mood is attributed in large part to the removal of all vices from my life."

Sydney's eyebrows rose in unison as he took in her comment. "I wasn't aware he'd done such a thing, Parker." A smirk drew across his lips, "It sounds very much like something Jarod might have done."

"Ain't genetics a bitch?" Miss Parker's words were dry as she blew out another breath of air through pursed lips. "Jarod has strung me along for six years, Sydney. We've been at an uneasy truce since Carthis, but I wouldn't call us friends. Somehow, I doubt I'm going to just up and forgive him for this cat and mouse game he's been playing with information on my mother's murder and my father's identity, in addition to every other little wild goose chase he's sent us on. Besides, I think he has some romantic idea that he's going to lead me to the answers and I'm going to run like the thankful damsel into his waiting arms." Her words were followed with a somewhat disgusted snort. "I'm not in need of a rescue and there are a lot of things he's done to piss me off that I'm not very likely to forget in this century." With her back to Sydney, she could not see the surprised expression that flickered across his features. The detail of the near-kiss at Ocee's and Jarod's longing, sad phone calls both prior to and afterward had not been disclosed.

Rinsing the mugs with warm water, Sydney reminded her, "You were friends as children."

"Things change, Syd," Parker replied, turning to face him and stretching her arms over her head as she stood to her feet. "Deb and Ben outside?" At his nod, she turned back around, heading for the kitchen door.

"Friendships don't have expiration dates, Miss Parker. After all, I've known you even longer than Jarod."

Tossing him a small smile over her shoulder, she pushed through the door. Her step, she thought, felt the smallest bit lighter.

--

The air, Broots noted, was thinner in Denver. "Guess that's why they call it the mile-high city," he mumbled to himself, not realizing that his words had attracted the attention of Major Charles' youngest son.

The four men had just disembarked from the Cessna the Major had traded his helicopter for in Cheyenne. He'd filed a flight plan for Reno and phoned in a favor to a friend at a private airport in case the Centre somehow picked up on their trail. The men had each packed one carry-on sized bag. They did not, however, contain the typical supplies for an overnight trip out of town. Instead, Broots' and Jim's bags were filled with computer tools, the component parts necessary for their trip, and a set of dark clothing each. Major Charles and Ethan split the task of carrying the first aid kit, an electronic device set to open the keypad enabled locks at both facilities, and weapons.

Curious to see if Broots would mumble any other strange phrases, Jim walked next to him with bag in hand, his father and brother on the opposite side.

"Motel first," Major Charles stated, nodding toward a run-down building at the opposite side of the tarmac. "Then we have about two hours to run through the plan again and review the blueprints before it's time to go. We'll grab some food on our way to our rooms and work through dinner."

Broots caught his toe on a crack in the asphalt, stumbling forward a few steps. "Are you okay, Mr. Broots?" Jim asked, quickly grasping the other man's elbow.

"Y-yes. I should be used to breaking into places like this by now. Miss Parker, well, she sends me to do a lot of things I probably shouldn't do," he shifted his bag to his other hand.

Major Charles chuckled, reaching around Jim to pat the technician's shoulder. "She's the sort of woman many a man would do foolish things for, Mr. Broots. No shame in that!" The scarlet that burned up the man's neck and onto his cheeks caused the oldest of the four to laugh even harder.

"She's my friend," Broots defended, taking a deep breath and preparing to launch in her defense.

"I know, Mr. Broots," Major Charles spoke, patting his shoulder. "She's the reason we're all here. I dare say none of us would have attempted something of this magnitude without damn good incentive."

--

The three men were dressed alike – dark turtlenecks, slacks, and ballcaps – as they edged toward the door of the building. The Major had insisted they wear slacks in case of close calls – ordinary fabric, he had told them, ripped much easier than denim. They had taken two cars, one parked a half-block from the satellite office, another parked several blocks away. Major Charles had instructed them to head to the first car unless they encountered trouble inside. An influx of sweepers on the inside would indicate that the first car had probably already been found.

Darkness had fallen several hours earlier, shortly after the four had landed. Jim was stationed in the hotel room, hacking into the Denver mainframe from the outside in order to turn off the cameras and microphones. The entire operation was planned to take only minutes.

Ethan slid around the corner toward the back door, fitting the small mechanism against the card slot on the lock. Within seconds, a short beep was heard and the red light flipped to green. Pulling the door open, the three men slid into the dark hallway with small flashlights at their sides. Major Charles led the way toward the center office, Broots in the middle with Ethan bringing up the rear. On sight security circled every seven minutes. They had allowed for the guard to enter two minutes ahead of them, giving them less than five to access the necessary terminals.

Upon entering the dark room, Broots took a deep, shaky breath, sliding toward the computer nearest the back exit. Removing a small screwdriver from his pocket, he forcibly steadied his hand as he twisted the screws left, pulling the cable loose from the mounting bracket. Ethan stood over his shoulder, accepting the box he was handed and passing another one to Broots. The blue box Broots reconnected was merely a decoy. When the system attempted to back itself up the following night, it would fail without the necessary passcodes. Electronic alarms would sound, but with no one to monitor the equipment overnight, the disruption would not be discovered until the next morning. Pushing the new box back into place, Broots followed Ethan and Major Charles swiftly to a side corridor, entering the main office as soon as Ethan deactivated the electronic lock. The technician crouched under the solid oak desk, entirely too reminiscent of Raines', he thought, and twisted loose the screws on the back of the tower. Popping the right side loose, he pushed the small chip Major Charles slipped from his pocket into the open card slot and flipped the short antenna up, pressing a small button until a low light flickered at the end of the card. Finally, Ethan slipped a sticky device to the office camera, just under the microphone. Major Charles pushed open the first floor window and watched as Ethan attached a transmitter to the upper corner of the window casing, hidden by the mounting hardware of the vertical blinds. The three men slipped quietly outside with flashlights now turned off, none of them having spoken a word. Closing the window behind his father, Ethan slid the electronic locking device back through the card once more, watching as the light switched from green back to red.

Broots let out a barely audible breath – the one he felt he'd been holding for the last four and a half minutes – and barely held back the yelp he nearly uttered as the oldest of the three men grabbed his arms and tugged him to the side and down between the shrubs and the building.

Holding two fingers in the air, then pointing at the open palm he held furthest from his face, the Major signaled that the guard would soon be returning and that they should maintain their positions until after he had passed. Again, Broots drew a deep breath and squinted, afraid the whites of his eyes would give them away. Moments later, he heard Ethan's low whisper at his ear. "Breathe, Mr. Broots." As his eyes opened the rest of the way, he saw Major Charles gesture them onward, and the three men departed for the car parked on a side road less than half a block away.

This, Jim had told them, would be the easy part: quiet and simple, easy to plan. The Centre storage facility they would need to gain access to the following night had both night guards and a skeleton crew of staff available at all times. Broots swallowed as Ethan tugged him toward the car, wondering exactly how they were going to get through the next phase of their plan without any undue surprises.

--

Somewhere in Kansas, Jarod smirked, Mr. Lyle was fighting mad. He had crafted a false trail for Parker, Sydney and Broots that led the again-thumbless man to a wheat farm. If his plan had operated properly, the man was currently trapped in an empty grain silo and would not be released until the wee hours of Saturday morning when an anonymous tip led a sweeper team to his make-shift cell. His father had left him a recorded video message in a mailbox Jarod kept for just those instances. It had been purely happenstance, the pretender figured, that he had thought to check the box on Thursday morning. Major Charles had told him little of what was going on, but the look in his eyes was extremely grave.

"We're moving the plan forward, Jarod. We'll be acquiring some materials from several Centre satellite locations Thursday-Saturday morning. Any false leads you can provide for the Centre would be appreciated. Throw them as far and wide as you can, son," he had instructed, not revealing their location or the identities of the satellite offices mentioned. Jarod knew, of course, that the numbers neared the triple digits in the US alone. "If there were any other way to go about this…" The recorded Major Charles paused, shaking his head lightly. "For now, this is the safest way. I promise to give you more information as soon as it's feasible, son. Everyone here is doing well, and we all wish you the best. Ethan and Parker say hello. Jim recommends you try sour gummy worms and chocolate covered espresso beans. He found them at the grocery store this week. Thank you for your help," the older man offered his son a loving smile before reaching forward and flicking the camera off.

_I've been asked not to interefere, and against my better judgement I'm going along with it. Only because it's Dad that's asking. But it's time I figure out what they're doing and why Parker is with them._ Jarod's thoughts wandered into territory he had forbidden himself from in the weeks prior. He tapped his finger against the blank space below the keyboard of his laptop. He knew accessing the Centre mainframe was a bad idea, just as trying to track his father and Parker was. If he found them, the Centre would undoubtedly be able to pick up the trail as well. He had never met a trail he could not track, but if Parker and his father were working together, there was likely no visible trail to follow. It had literally taken him years after his initial escape to find his father, and even then it was largely coincidental.

_This Centre project to replace Baby Parker, Gemini, and Ethan clearly has something to do with it. I guess what I saw in that planted file was correct and Parker got wind of their plan to use her as an incubator. I wonder whether they intended to simply harvest her genetic material or simply impregnate her using a surrogate? Either way, Parker would never consent to an insemination or giving a child to the Centre, not after everything she's learned about that place in the last few years._ Jarod lifted a handful of chocolate covered espresso beans to his mouth. His clone had good taste in junk foods, he recognized, smiling as he felt the continued influx of caffeine race through his blood.

_Miss Parker loved her little brother – she's undoubtedly pretty pissed that the child was murdered. I wonder if she knows it is because his potential skills as a pretender were proven dormant? _Snorting to himself, _I wonder if the baby was even any relation to Parker at all. Sydney said when they checked Mr. Parker's genetic material that the motility was so low as to make him virtually sterile. But Raines' little swimmers checked out fine…_ This time, his hand strayed to a plastic bag of sour candy next to the espresso beans.

"That," Jarod murmured allowed, staring blankly at the empty computer screen, "is a whole other…" smiling at the phrase, "_bag_ of worms."

_Maybe if I can access the donor file for Baby Parker and determine his paternity, Parker will be willing to trade some information._ Nodding to himself, Jarod closed the laptop screen and slipped it into the briefcase at his side. Grabbing a pair of glasses and an ivy cap, he trotted out the hotel room door, leaving the keycard on the nightstand. _Time to lay a few more trails_. _Then back to business._


	22. Section 3: Two

_Don't worry, all… this will start to make more sense soon! Thanks for reading – and for the reviews/comments! I'd love to hear more from you… _

Part Two

"Want to join us, Parker?" Sydney asked, lifting an eyebrow as he glanced up from his hand of cards. The brunette had just wandered back inside from the short walk she had taken around the grounds. Grabbing a bottle of water, she raised an eyebrow at the psychiatrist.

"Poker, Syd?" her words were dry but filled with amusement. Casting a quick glance at Debbie, she smirked as the girl called the hand. She watched quietly as each player laid down his or her hand, taking great pride in the fact that her young protégé took the game.

"Clearly you've played with Debbie before," Sydney replied, corners of his lips quirking upward.

Debbie crowed with delight, leapt from her chair, and danced toward Miss Parker. "See? I remembered! I can't wait until I can lure Daddy into a game!"

Laughing, Parker grinned indulgently at the girl. "Might need to wait a while for that, Debbie. I'm not sure his heart can handle it! He's not overly fond of the fact that his little Debbie is all grown up." Debbie smiled happily, tugging at Parker's hand and shaking her head.

"Come on and play with us, Miss Parker," Debbie continued as the pair neared the two empty seats at the end. "She taught me how," the girl added, explaining her skills unnecessarily to Ben and Sydney. "Who taught you?"

With a chuckle, she answered, "Lots of places, Debbie," pausing for a moment to collect her thoughts. She eyed the table, taking in the bowls of M&Ms set near each player. Clearly, they had found a much more tasty form of betting. "Jarod, Angelo – Timmy," she corrected, "and I used to play cards in the air vents. Before Mama died, anyway. I don't think we ever played poker, probably didn't know how then. When my father sent me away to school, it's one of the things we did on weekends." Sydney watched her shrug carefully, knowing the weight of angst she carried over the years she had been away. She had never discussed her years away, aside from a few brief and sarcastic comments, but the defensive posture she maintained indicated that it had not been a particularly pleasant time.

"Where did you go to school?" Debbie asked, cocking her head to the side with a curious expression gleaming in her eyes. The girl was wearing an outfit remarkably like that of the older woman's – blue tank top and black jeans to Parker's light blue blouse and dark slacks.

Laughing lightly, Parker took the deck of cards from her hands and began to shuffle them. "Lots of places, really. Daddy sent me to a boarding school in New Hampshire about a year and a half after my mother died. I was younger than you, then. I stayed there for a few years but it was miserable. Daddy finally sent me to a place in London where I finished high school. We played a lot of cards, did some fencing, a few other things. There wasn't much in the way of options; we weren't allowed off the grounds without an adult escort. Daddy only came a few times a year, and I didn't have anyone else." Hearing Sydney's sharp intake of breath, she added, "Anyone who knew where Daddy had sent me, anyway."

Sydney ventured a guess, "Somehow, I don't imagine that stopped you, Parker. You were always a curious child."

With a grin, she shook her head. "No, it didn't. Daddy had to build them a new library to keep me enrolled my last year there." Before anyone could ask her what she had done, the woman continued, "No I won't tell you why. Let's just say I had my reasons for what I did, and luckily a few people knew that."

"Did you go to college?" Debbie questioned, watching the older woman cut the deck. Tapping the stack to the left, she passed the cards to the girl and folded her hands together.

"Yes, I did. In California and Japan," her posture relaxed a little, and she reached for the bag of M&Ms to pour herself out a pile.

_So that's how she met Tommy Tanaka. A Centre-funded education that took her to his hometown_, Sydney thought, nodding discretely to himself.

"Did you always want to work at that place?" the girl continued, dealing out cards to her three companions, then herself. "And what do you do there, anyway?"

Flashing back to a conversation with Thomas a few years before, she gave the answer she had given him then: "I'm a problem solver, Debbie. A trouble shooter," Miss Parker paused, "No. No, I wanted to be a lawyer. A prosecutor. I had great dreams of putting the bad guys in jail and saving the good guys."

"So, why didn't you?" Ben asked, knowing – at least in part – the answer before she spoke.

"I grew up and realized that the bad guys don't always wear black hats," Parker replied, shoulders tensing slightly. "Daddy called me back to the Centre and offered me a position overseeing the Security Division. It would make him so proud to have me working with him, his only child, his legacy," the last words were lower and a touch bitter. "So I came back to Blue Cove."

"You could be a lawyer now, Miss Parker," Debbie pointed out, picking up her cards and gesturing for the others to do the same.

Glancing over the five cards in her hand, the brunette shook her head. "There are some dreams, Debbie, that are better left behind."

Somehow, Sydney and Ben both sensed that she was talking about far more than career choices.

--

Debbie's curiosity, Parker realized later in the night, made her feel important. Made her feel like she _mattered_. With the exception of Tommy, no one had ever asked her about her college years or her time spent in boarding school. No one cared enough to be curious. Debbie's innocent questions, she smiled, staring out the bedroom window, gave her a taste of what motherhood might be like. As quickly as the thought made her smile, a frown took its place._ The things I have done, the mistakes I have made, the people I have hurt… should never be known to a child._ The brunette sighed, arms wrapped around her middle as she sat in the window seat, _I will not let my child live a life of lies and betrayal. It doesn't matter who your father is, little girl. Your mama will keep you safe from that place and their poison. Nobody better,_ she thought bitterly, _I've been party to it for years._

Before they had left, she and Major Charles had agreed not to attempt contact until after they had decrypted the blue box Friday night. Staring up at the star-peppered sky, Miss Parker cursed her insomnia for giving her mind more time to wander into territory she considered dangerous. She felt out of sorts, restless in a way she had not known for years.

_Lonely_, Parker acknowledged. It was a bone-deep, abiding sense of loneliness she had known only twice in her life: at the death of her mother and the death of her lover. In the last few days and nights, she had been able to chase away the dark edge of sadness as it eased over her. At first, Debbie's need for companionship and a steady anchor had enabled her to keep her head above the water. Then, Sydney's guiding hand and reassuring words mixed in with memories of her mother had made her feel like less of an outsider. And finally, Major Charles… the man who was so much like the Jarod she had once known, the one who had not hurt and betrayed her, withheld information and taunted her with knowledge he would not share. Sighing, Parker grimaced. Major Charles had been both a distraction and a friend in the days since she had first shown up on his doorsteps, moreso in the last few than before. To him she had been able to say the things she was not sure how to share with Sydney or Broots, knowing that they needed her to be strong enough to push them through the endeavor they had undertaken. With him, her friend, and her brother in Denver, and Sydney, Ben and Debbie asleep downstairs, Parker was without companionship and a confidante, and her bones ached with need. Need for what, exactly, she wasn't sure, but _something_. What she wanted, she could not have, and it seemed that in that moment she did not even have the option to settle for anything else.

_Mama? Your voice has been silent for days_, Parker thought, biting her bottom lip. _I hope what we're doing is the right thing. No, I know it's the right thing, I'm just not sure if the way we're doing it is the best way. It just seems like it's the only way. I don't know what we're going to find in those files, Mama… but it's big, isn't it, what they're hiding? _Letting her eyes droop closed, Parker leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the window and slid her arms tighter around herself. _I need you,_ _Mama; I'm scared. _

--

"That went precisely according to plan," Jim acknowledged, nodding his head as the three men took seats around the hotel suite. "I've already picked up a test signal from the transmitter."

A look of sheer panic crossed Broots' face. "Wa…was that the best idea?"

Shrugging carelessly, the boy smirked. "It's a transmitter with a 6.6 mile radius and can be accessed online. I set up a simple masking number to cover the dedicated IP the hotel was assigned. Even if they did find the transmitter, which they won't, and they did realize someone had accessed it, which they won't, it would take them more than a day to crack the mask and track the IP back to the hotel. We'll be gone long before that's ever a concern."

Sucking in a deep breath, Broots nodded, conceding the point. He bent to untie his black sneakers as the other man continued.

"My plan for tomorrow night isn't as detailed," Major Charles spoke pointedly, eyes drifting from Jim to Broots, then to Ethan. The final man did not meet his eyes, instead staring out the window into the darkness of the street below. "There will be security guards and sweepers, likely computer personnel as well. We're going to have to get in and out as quickly as possible, which means not going in until minutes before the backup is planned."

"How… wh-what if we get caught?" Broots asked, holding his tennis shoes close against his body.

"We won't," the older man shook his head, taking a deep breath. Hesitating slightly, he continued, "I was able to get my hands on an incapacitating agent that we will begin delivering through the ventilation system at 11:28pm in a small but continuous vapor. Each of us will be armed with a gas mask, but when we enter the storage facility at 11:50, the gas will have dissipated enough that it won't have much effect on anyone entering. If we continue dosing them, it could have long-term consequences to their health. Ethan will monitor the gas output while you and I, Mr. Broots, head into the storage facility. Once we reach the backroom," he lifted a pen from the bedside table and walked toward the larger table across the room, "you'll wire the blue box and the connected sister module to the necessary hardware for decryption and the decryption scheme. Once that is done, install the component the three of you designed for remote monitoring. You'll have nine minutes. At 12:02, the files should be decrypted, all components installed. Ethan will release the gas into the ventilation system again, just to ensure our safe exit. At 12:05, the remote monitoring service light should begin blinking. As soon as it does, we exit through the ventilation shaft we'll be entering through. Jim will stay here and monitor security and work on the decryption code he's designed. We should be back here by 12:28am," he tapped the pen against the blueprints on the table. "One hour, boys. Then back home for a little while. Hopefully, Jarod got my message and will keep the Centre occupied until we can return to the house and work on the next stages of our plan."

Jim closed the laptop quietly, sliding it to the floor beside the bed he was propped on. Turning to his side, the boy placed his hand under his head and watched his father. "The Centre jet took off for a town outside of Grand Rapids at 8 o'clock last night," he offered, receiving a nod in reply.

Ethan continued staring out the window, whispered voices echoing, blending in his ears. He could not make out any words or phrases, merely a restless clamoring of one voice to be heard over another. Raines' training technique had exposed what might have been a natural gift, but had twisted it into something Ethan could not control or always even understand. When he saw visions, he tried to fulfill them. When he heard directions, he tried to follow them. Ethan could hear a variety of things his sister could not due to Raines' tampering with his mind. But Parker had the clarity he lacked, an ability to piece together the visions and Inner Sense to determine what the essence of the matter was. She could translate what he often missed.

He was used to the hissing and mumbling, always right below the surface of consciousness. However, in the last half-hour the voices had grown louder, more frustrated. No words were communicated, no warning obvious. A general sense of sadness had settled over him as he listened, and Ethan knew the mood shift was somehow linked to his sister. Closing his eyes, he placed his hands against the cold glass and tried to imagine her before him. If he could just _see_ her, he thought he could determine what was wrong.

"Ethan?" Major Charles spoke, a hand coming to rest on the young man's shoulder. Eyes flying open, he stumbled backward into his father and spun away from the glass. "What's wrong?"

Shaking his head, Ethan sighed. "Nothing, Dad. Just… my sister is sad, I think."

Brow furrowed, Broots interrupted. "You can hear her?"

Ethan shook his head again. "No. I just… I just think she's sad, that's all."

"It's been a long few weeks for her," Major Charles nodded, eyes resting on his son's face as surely as his hands rested on his shoulders.

"Yeah," Ethan agreed, looking to Jim who had fallen asleep on top of the covers. "I won't leave her again, not after this," he vowed, words settling around them like the blanket he went to throw over his brother.

A small smile graced the older man's face. "Tomorrow, we head back. Hopefully with everything we need to ensure our safety – all of us. Maybe some of her answers, too." He nodded once, then headed toward the next room to take to his own bed. Broots had not moved from the recliner, the words "incapacitating agent" running through his head. _All those times Miss Parker told me to get a life…? I don't think this is what she meant._


	23. Section 3: Three

_To show my appreciation for the rapid response of several reviewers, I thought I'd post another chapter over the weekend. It'll probably be a few days before the next is sufficiently polished. Hope everyone has had a lovely (hopefully long) weekend! Thanks again for reading, and please enjoy!_

Part Three

"Hold still," Parker groused at the computer technician, batting Jim's hands away from the wound on Broots' head. "Now tell me - what the hell happened?"

The day had passed with infinite slowness, Parker had thought, as they waited for night to fall and the other four members of their group to return. With much encouragement, Debbie had finally dropped off to sleep just before midnight, Ben and Sydney following not soon after. She, however, had not been able to do the same. The voices were restless, mumbling low and wary. Miss Parker's nerves had been on edge from the moment she woke that morning, food refusing to stay down and fatigue weighing her muscles. She was still seated in the living room, tracing the edge of a pillow when Major Charles, Broots, Ethan, and Jim had burst through the door.

Dried blood covered the right side of Broots' forehead and cheek; his eyes were wide and bloodshot. Major Charles guided him in the door by the elbow, pushing him toward the first chair in the room. Ethan and Jim had exchanged startled glances upon seeing her on the sofa across the room, then moved to drop their bags on the floor behind the chair.

"Ouch!" Broots yelped when Jim reached forward to prod at the cut on his temple. Without realizing she was moving, Parker had slipped toward them and was hovering over the chair in which the man was sitting. Pushing Jim's fingers away, she eyed the still-bleeding wound and then gazed toward the lamp near the door. As if reading her thoughts, Major Charles flicked the switch and flooded the room with light.

"Parker," Major Charles acknowledged, an expression of cautious concern spread across his tired features.

She nodded back, then turned to her brother and pointed to the next room. "Ethan, first aid kit's in the bathroom."

The four men were dressed in black, much as they had been the night before: black turtlenecks, slacks and sneakers. Ethan still had a baseball cap perched on his head, and Jim's was looped through his belt. "Hold still," she dropped her hands to Broots' shoulder, wincing at the furrow near his temple. "Now tell me," her eyes drifted to Jim, then Major Charles, "What the hell happened?"

Jim stubbed his toe against the carpet, looking down guiltily. "He forgot his ball cap," the boy muttered. "One of the guards regained consciousness early and fired off a shot as we were leaving the storage facility." Major Charles crossed his arms over his chest as Ethan flew back into the room, holding out the requested first aid kit. Jim took the kit from his brother and popped it open.

Sucking in a breath, Parker grabbed a package of gauze and sterile alcohol pads from the kit. Dropping the material to her brother's hands, she grabbed the wet rag he'd thrown over his wrist. "He must have been a sorry shot," she commented, dabbing at the cut, dried blood smearing the color of rust against the cloth. "You were lucky, Broots."

Cautiously, he cleared his throat, then winced. "Ouch!" After a few moments of silence, she dropped the rag back into Ethan's hands and grabbed the alcohol and gauze.

"This is going to sting, Broots, but it doesn't look like you'll need stitches – too late now anyway. Why don't you tell me what happened?" she asked, more as an attempt at distracting the technician than out of her own curiosity.

"Th-there's good news and th…then there's bad news," Broots ventured, voice shaking. He shifted in the seat, turning slightly sideways in the chair. Parker realigned herself, her chest nearest his back as she leaned over the chair.

"I can do it, Miss Parker," Jim offered, glancing at the vacant seat near Broots.

Shaking her head, she dabbed the wound with alcohol and listened to the man's hissed intake of air. "He's _my_ geek," the words were muttered. "Give it to me, Broots."

Major Charles shucked his leather jacket as they spoke, then lifted the laptop bag to the coffee table. Ethan, following his father's lead, grabbed the second padded bag and placed it nearby. Both men sat on the couch.

"The… the good news is, everything went off without a hitch. Other than this part, anyway," he spoke, trying to ignore the sting of the alcohol and the tenderness of her hands. "The bad news is that the blue box doesn't contain any information regarding this Project Illusion, or Mirage for that matter." Her fingers swept near his eye as she patted the wound with gauze, then held it firm against his temple.

"The component we installed in the storage facility may give us access to that information remotely," Jim offered, watching quietly as Parker ripped the clear tape with her teeth then secured the cotton near her friend's brow. She nodded at the boy's words, letting out a small sigh. Across from him, Ethan yawned.

As if startled by the sound, Parker jerked from Broots and let her eyes fall to Ethan. "Any other war wounds I need to know about, boys?" Her eyes flicked from her brother to Jim, hands resting lightly on Broots' shoulders. Ethan watched tiredly as she refused to meet his father's eyes.

"It's almost 4am, sister. We should all rest now and then we'll tell you all what happened in the morning. Everyone is okay," he smiled at her wary expression. "And we got what we went there for." Without further encouragement, both he and Jim rose with the intention of heading downstairs.

Parker removed her hands from Broots' shoulders. "Go," she directed, eyes following as he too stood and headed toward the stairs with the younger men.

"Miss Parker…" Broots began, clearing his throat and turning as his hand landed on the stair rail. "It was…"

"Not many men have been shot for me, Broots," she forced a smile. "Consider yourself the conquering fairy tale hero and go get some sleep," Parker dismissed him, carefully taking the seat Broots had vacated and letting her eyes focus on the older man who had remained in the room. He sighed, placing his head in his hands, and the living room dropped into silence.

Her intent had been to muster her concern, frustration, and anger into a tongue lashing over the health and wellbeing of her friend, but Major Charles beat her to it. "He could have been killed. Any one of them could have been killed." With his guilt-ridden words, her anger dissipated.

"Yes," the brunette agreed, eyes still fixed on the down-turned head. "You could have been killed, too." Taking a deep breath, Parker blew it out slowly and added. "You knew the risks, all of you. And you all boarded that helicopter with intent, and you all came back in one piece." A smirk played at her lips, "More or less."

Major Charles shook his head, lifting it slowly to settle on her. "It's late, Parker."

"I was worried," she shrugged, "for good reason it seems." She saw the man open his mouth as if to explain and held up a hand to ward off the words. "Tomorrow, Major Charles. We all need sleep. Perhaps then we'll all be able to think more clearly."

The Major nodded, not making a move. Guilt had settled over his shoulders like the warmth of the room. Forcibly pushing down the frustration and anger that had risen in her throat over the last half hour, Parker stood carefully and crossed to the older man, laying a hand on his back. "Go to bed, Major. I'll undoubtedly have the entire house awake in a few hours, anyway."

Confused eyes met her own, and the brunette swallowed against the knowledge that Jarod's lost expression was inherited. "This morning sickness thing…" she indicated her midsection, "and the thin walls in this house."

Major Charles chuckled genuinely, without thought patting her stomach. This time, no flashes of consciousness or emotion crossed between them, and neither seemed to notice the gesture. "Still bad?"

With a grimace, the woman started for the stairs, listening as his footfalls sounded against the hardwood floor behind her. "Worse."

--

Friday morning, Parker had come to the conclusion that women who had more than one child were, as a whole, completely masochistic. Saturday morning, she was fairly certain she would not survive being pregnant with her first – and only – one.

After retiring to bed at four, she had slept less than two hours before being awakened by the rolling of her own stomach. By six-fifteen, she was absolutely exhausted but had no energy to move. Reaching for the counter, she grabbed a towel and placed it under her head, then dozed off propped against the bathroom counter. Ten minutes later, the cycle began again.

Closing her eyes tightly, tears running down her face, she felt a warm arm settle around her middle as she leaned forward. Steeling her jaw, Parker glanced behind her, eyes widening as they settled on Thomas Gates' face. His name slipped past her lips, gravelly and tired.

"It's okay, Parker," his words were gentle and his fingertips light as he brushed sweat-dampened hair from her face.

"I wish you were real," she murmured, leaning into his touch. "God, Tommy." The brunette drew in a ragged breath as his other arm slid around her and cradled her closer.

"I love you, Parker," he whispered against her forehead, "and it's going to be okay." Dropping a light kiss against her skin, Thomas leaned away from her, catching her freshly-opened eyes with his own. "Take care of him, Parker," a light hand caressed her abdomen before settling in place. Her eyes closed again, holding the image behind her eyes. "He's the one."

Brows wrinkled and eyes tightly shut, she asked, "the one what?"

Easing free of her weight, he replied, "The one they've been looking for."

"The Centre?" she asked, eyes snapping open.

The bathroom was empty.

Drawing a shuddering breath, Parker closed her eyes and dropped her chin, hands clasped tightly against her stomach.

"Miss Parker?" a voice shattered the quiet after several minutes. Her head tilted sideways, eyes sliding open to take in the figure at the door.

"Broots," she sighed, "you should be resting."

Shrugging, the man crouched low on the floor a few feet away from her, expression concerned. "I couldn't sleep so I was going to toast some Pop-Tarts for me and Debbie, but I heard you talking when I walked by your door." He made no attempt to ask her who she was talking to or what she was saying.

Swallowing hard, the brunette flexed her fingers and pushed her hands against the floor as if testing her balance. Before she'd gotten more than a few inches from the floor, the urge to vomit once again struck. Turning her head, Parker leaned over the toilet. After a moment's hesitation, Broots stood and walked behind her, kneeling and gathering her hair in his hands.

"I'm sorry," he spoke after a few moments, voice filled with embarrassment. "I shouldn't have mentioned…"

Holding up her right hand and waving at him, she cut him off, afraid he'd continue talking about breakfast.

"When, uh, when Debbie's mother was… well, before Debbie was born, she said, uh…"

"Broots," Parker groaned, urging him to get to the point.

"Here," he slid forward and to her side, taking her slight wrist in his hands. Carefully pressing his thumbs against the inside of her wrist beneath the bone, circling outward. Leaning her head back against the cabinet, she sighed. Within minutes, Broots had helped her to a standing position, watched her rinse her mouth, and guided her back to bed. Watching her slide between the sheets, he tugged the comforter under her chin. "Crackers," he muttered, "and tea."

A small smile broke across her tired, pale face. "Broots," she called as he turned to exit. "Debbie's a lucky girl." A rose blush tinted his cheeks and he scurried into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind himself as he left.

Sighing, Parker curled on her side, knees bent forward. "Tommy," she muttered, eyes sliding closed. "The one _what_?"

--

It was almost noon when Miss Parker, freshly showered, followed Ethan upstairs. He had woken her up an hour earlier to ask if she had been able to decipher her mother's voice in the preceding days. At her negative answer, he sighed and shook his head. He had heard very little, quiet static and a remote sort of chattering. Neither the static nor chattering were unusual, but since he'd found his sister, the absence of his mother's voice was something he found odd. She left him sitting in her window seat, flipping through an album of her mother's photos while she showered. When she emerged, he stood and started up the stairs with the book still in his hands.

The siblings entered the empty kitchen, Ethan seating himself at the table while his sister retrieved two bottles of water from the refrigerator. Taking the chair next to him, she glanced around his arm at the book. He was smiling as he looked at pictures of his sister and mother together, both in leotards at a ballet bar.

"What were you, six in this picture?" he asked, pointing at the black and white photograph.

"Five," she corrected, smiling back. "Tall for my age. That was my favorite position." Parker's eyes traced the image of her mother, one hand on the bar, the other arced over her head. Little Miss Parker mimicked her faithfully, surprisingly well for such a young child.

"Position?" Ethan asked, turning to look his sister in the eye.

She nodded, flipping the page and letting out a laugh. "Oh, that was my first recital. I hated that costume!" Pointing at a blue, feathered leotard and skirt. "I was supposed to be a peacock." She looked up to find Ethan still gazing at her. Rolling her eyes, she stood to her feet. "There are five positions in ballet that you have to learn before anything else." Positioning her feet parallel and pointing inward, one arm over her head, she said, "Position four." Letting go of the pose, she sat again in the chair.

"You liked ballet," he stated, grinning widely at his sister.

"Mama liked ballet," the brunette paused, her head tilted sideways, "I liked to see her happy." After another moment, she continued, "Mama put me in classes as soon as I could walk, I guess. I remember hating it at first, then growing to love it as I got older. When Mama died, there was no one to take me to class so I simply stopped going. It wasn't the same without her. I used to practice in the sim lab when there was no one else around." Shrugging, she reached over Ethan's left arm and flipped the page again.

"Piano?" he asked, spotting a picture of a little girl seated on a piano bench. "I took piano lessons, too. My adoptive parents thought it was important. Are you any good?"

"Terrible," Miss Parker admitted. "That's a talent we do not share." Before she could continue, Major Charles and Jim entered the kitchen, throwing the door wide open.

"Da-ad," Jim groaned. "The last time you grilled chicken, I got food poisoning! It's safer if I cook," he reasoned.

"You did not get food poisoning from my chicken," the older man defended, stopping in his tracks as he noticed the adults sitting at the kitchen table. Miss Parker and Ethan exchanged an amused look before forcing themselves to look back at the album. Sighing with exasperation, the Major caved in to his son's demands. "You have cooked every night since we got here. I'll put something in the slow cooker now for dinner and you can make sandwiches for everyone for lunch. Deal?"

The boy nodded, pleased with both suggestions. His father could not grill chicken, but was the master of a flavorful, slow-cooked stew. Both men approached the counter, taking opposite sides as they began pulling out the necessary kitchen utensils and appliances from the cabinets below.

The four remained quiet for several minutes until Ethan let out a bark of laughter. "That's _you_?" he pointed to the grainy color photo in the corner, a toddler with a bare bottom staring up at the camera from her semi-crawling position on the floor.

Jerking the album from her brother's hands, Parker rolled her eyes and leapt to her feet. "I should have never let you see these!" Even as she complained, she was forcing her lips not to tug upwards into a grin.

"Ooh, do you have any of you in the tub? I hear those are good blackmail material!"

"Ethan!" Parker yelped, smacking him in the arm with the book. Letting out an embellished cry of pain, he stood across from her, rubbing his injured left arm. She stood with her hands on her hips, the book in her left hand, glaring at her younger brother. Before she could say anything more, a delighted smile slid across Ethan's face as she felt the book pulled from her grasp. Turning on her heel, Parker caught sight of Major Charles slipping to shield himself behind his young son, cracking the book open to an early page.

Letting out a chuckle, the Major tilted the book down for Jim. "Think we found your pictures, Ethan." Glancing upward, he caught the embarrassed look on Parker's face as a pink tint flooded her cheeks.

With a groan, Parker threw her hands in the air and sank back into the chair. "Oh, whatever. If you really want to laugh at my baby pictures, go ahead," she let out a huff.

Grinning, Major Charles slid the book in front of her, displaying the pages he had opened the book to see. Instead of naked baby photographs, it was a picture of a toddler Parker seated on Sydney's knee, flanked by an image of her and a young boy seated on a concrete floor with Lincoln Logs strewn on the floor between them. "Who is that?" Ethan asked, peering over her shoulder as a soft smile crossed her face.

"Angelo," she laughed. "I wonder who added this picture. It was taken a few months after my mother…our mother… after I thought she was dead," Parker finally settled on. Pointing to the box peaking out behind where the boy's legs were crooked underneath him, she added, "He loved Cracker Jacks. Probably still does." Shaking her head to break the spell of memory, she closed the book and turned to face Major Charles, who had returned to the kitchen counter and was plugging in his electric slow cooker. Parker shoved the album toward the center of the table and clasped her hands together. "I'd like to know what happened in Denver."

Major Charles pulled the aluminum foil tab from a box of broth and slowly poured it into the cooker. After a few moments of silence, he turned the knob to the desired setting and faced the woman seated at the table. "All right," he agreed, "if you tell us who you were talking to this morning, and what about." The Major watched her brow furrow, "Broots mentioned that you were sick this morning. He said when he entered the room you were talking to someone, he assumed you were on the phone." His tone was calm, curious, but not accusing.

With an eye roll and a sigh, Parker nodded. "Deal." She cleared her throat, prepared to offer the answer before the Major began. Without acknowledging her easy acquiescence, Major Charles began to tell her the story.


	24. Section 3: Four

_Sorry for the delay in posting – I've been battling a migraine all week. Will try to get a little more posted over the weekend! _

_As always, thanks for the reviews and please continue letting me know what you think! Enjoy!_

Part Four

"Friday night was a quick in and out. One security guard was easy to dodge. We just timed his rounds and acted appropriately. No one would ever have known we were there," Major Charles spoke, taking the carrots his son offered, and nodding toward the countertop when Jim held up a bag of potatoes. The boy set the bag beside the sink and turned to the opposite counter to make sandwiches.

"Except the blue box would be missing," Parker interjected, twisting the cap off of her bottle of water.

Major Charles shook his head. "Broots, Jim, and Ethan built a supplemental blue box to go in its place. No one would have detected the absence of the real box until 11:59 last night. Without the proper passcodes, it would simply fail to back up. The Centre personnel will probably think it was a hardware failure and send someone to check up on it next week." He glanced to the side, taking in her appreciative glance as she patted her brother's hand. She raised her eyebrows, indicating that he should continue.

"Saturday wasn't as simple," he continued, beginning to slice the carrots. "There were four sweepers at the storage facility and three computer technicians. There were also six other Centre employees there, from management to the night janitor. We used a volatile anesthetic in small doses through the ventilation system to render them unconscious."

"A volatile anesthetic?" Parker repeated, one eyebrow arching even closer to her hairline. "Isn't that what the Russian authorities used to gas those terrorists a few years ago?"

The Major grimaced, then nodded. "We used much smaller doses," he qualified, "and not a fentanyl derivative. No permanent damage, just a quick nap. The three of us had gas masks just in case. Ethan stayed at the ventilation system and was in charge of slow dosing the employees. Jim stayed in the hotel room and remotely turned the security cameras onto a loop and shut off the alarms. Broots and I waited until the sweepers and technicians all appeared to have dozed off and dropped out of the ventilation shaft. We went to the main storage room and Broots hooked up the blue box for decryption, the additional external hard drive for the decryption codes, and a few other things he and Jim put together."

"A transmitter and remote access card," Jim supplied. "He also had a flash drive with a malicious virus on it that was set to go off at 12:30." At Major Charles quick look of surprise, the boy shrugged. "We figured that it might distract them, make them think we were just there to infect their computers. They probably won't realize that we are remotely accessing information right away if they're too busy cleaning up the mess we left them."

"But how are you going to access the information if the computer has a virus?" Parker questioned, leaning her back against the table behind her.

Jim quirked a smile at her as he separated the slices of ham he was putting on the sandwiches, "Simple. We control it," he cocked his head to the side, "I built in a password that will allow us to go behind the virus, so to speak, to the actual files. It's only going to create havoc with certain programs, not with the actual information we need to access."

Shaking his head, a grin painted across his face, Major Charles continued his story. "We didn't run into trouble until after midnight. One of the sweepers recovered from the small dose of gas faster than we expected. Ethan had already turned it back on but it hadn't been running long enough to knock him back out," the older man shrugged. "Luckily, we had the blue box and hard drive back in the bag and were on our way out the door. The sweeper caught sight of your friend's bald head and must have realized there were intruders on the premises. He fired off a shot."

"Dad knocked him out of the way," Ethan supplied, trying to hold back the smile of pride that fought its way onto his face.

"The shot went a little wild anyway," Major Charles stated. "Before I could even get to him to knock him out, the gas had done the job. I grabbed Broots by the arm and dragged him back to the ventilation shaft. We got out of there and to the car as fast as possible, then picked up Jim and boarded the plane. It was fairly obvious that, while bloody, his wound wasn't fatal. Jim treated him on the plane until Broots was finally tired of the poking and prodding." A smirk stretched across the older man's face, "Of course, he didn't mind your poking and prodding last night."

This time, it was Miss Parker who smirked and rolled her eyes. "Do we know what was on the drive yet? You said last night there were no files pertaining to anything called Illusion…"

"Nothing that I've seen yet," Jim interrupted. "Mr. Broots is going to work on it some more today. We also haven't tried to remotely access the mainframe or the satellite office yet. Theoretically, that would give us more information to work from… if it works." Catching Miss Parker and Ethan's matching lifted eyebrows in his peripheral vision, he hastened to add, "It will work, we just haven't tried yet."

After a short contemplative pause, Parker asked, "Will we be able to access the Blue Cove mainframe remotely through the storage facility?"

Jim shook his head, "I'm not sure, Miss Parker. At 11:59pm on Friday nights? Sure. The rest of the week? Only if the computers are somehow connected and communicating with each other. If there is some sort of communication, we can piggyback it into the mainframe and set up our own. We'll have to try it first. The only problem with that is if the Centre picks up our signal, it could lead them to us."

"Jarod used to… borrow, shall we say, money from the Centre's offshore accounts when we began transactions. He would reroute the signal through different satellites so that it looked as if he was moving every second to a different city or country," Miss Parker crossed her legs, then uncrossed them, fingers tapping the wooden post on the back right side of her chair. "Could we do something like that?"

Jim nodded, "With the proper equipment, I'm sure Mr. Broots, Ethan and I can figure something out. Probably something even better," the boy offered. "But nothing with a computer is foolproof."

Parker let out a soft sigh and nodded. "You know how important this is, Jim, and the three of you know what you're doing." Pausing for a second, she added, "Do whatever you think is best. I can't promise you I won't be down behind you all the way," she glared at Ethan from the corner of her eye as he smothered a grin. "But I do trust that you'll get us the information we need without landing us in Raines' clutches."

"Of course, Miss Parker," Jim agreed, placing slices of bread on top of the sandwiches in front of him. "Ham and cheese, or ham and extra cheese?" the boy asked pleasantly a moment later, serving plate in his hands.

With a chuckle, Parker took the two nearest sandwiches, handing one to her brother. "Thank you, Jim. For lunch and for your help."

He smiled brilliantly at her, then took the seat opposite and grabbed the biggest sandwich left. Ethan laughed at his brother while Parker contemplated her sandwich.

Before taking a bite, Parker looked at Major Charles, watching him as he began peeling the potatoes in the sink. Chewing thoughtfully, she waited until he met her eyes. She swallowed, took a swig of her water, and offered, "I wasn't on the phone this morning."

Major Charles nodded knowingly, and her shoulders tensed slightly. "I was… I was talking to Tommy."

"Tommy?" Ethan questioned around his sandwich, food tucked into the side of his mouth.

"You look like a squirrel, Ethan. Chew and swallow first," she suggested with a forced smirk. "I… sometimes I see our mother, like the premonitions?" Parker's words were geared toward her brother. "I see Tommy, too. Every now and then." Modifying her thought slightly, "Only a few times, actually… but more often than I've seen Mama. There have been three people I've seen in my… my visions. I've seen Tommy the most, I suppose." Her words trailed off, picking back up again when Jim clinked his watch against the sandwich platter. "I'm not sure Thomas comes because he's supposed to or if I conjure him myself, but this morning he told me to make sure I protect the baby." Shrugging, she took a small bite of her sandwich, chewing slowly. "He said the baby was 'the one', whatever that means. I asked him what he meant, and he just said 'the one they're looking for'. I was never able to find out who they were, but I think we can safely assume he meant the Centre. It wasn't anything we didn't already know," her words had dropped in volume.

Ethan laid his hand on her forearm but did not say what she was afraid he would. _Maybe you only saw him because you wanted to. _With a sigh, she opted to give voice to her own thought, feeling Ethan's answering squeeze of her arm.

"I didn't see him," Ethan spoke cautiously, "But I never knew him. You… you see things I don't, sister. Like I hear things you don't. If you saw Thomas, for whatever reason – he was there. That's what matters." He watched as his sister blinked hard, offering him a thankful smile. She laid her right hand over his and took another lazy bite of her sandwich.

Major Charles looked up from the counter and glanced quickly at his youngest son, then offered a smile to the older siblings. "If we can find out what's in those files," he used the flat side of the knife to push the diced potatoes into a bowl, "We can probably figure out what he means." Without looking up, he knew Parker's eyes had widened in surprise and settled on him. "Parker, everything you've told us so far has made sense, whether you read it from a file or quoted it from a dream. If you saw your Thomas, then I have no doubt in my mind that what he said was not only true, but also important."

This time, blinking did little to staunch the trickle of tears.

--

"Daddy? What happened?" Debbie asked, knitting her brow as she stopped at the door of the living room. Broots was seated on the floor, knees crossed under the coffee table as he tapped away at the keyboard.

"Huh?" he asked, barely sparing her a glance as he reached forward to plug in the external hard drive.

"Your face – you're hurt," she reminded him, watching as his hand came to touch the bandage on his temple.

"Oh, that. Nothing really, Debbie. I'm fine now. Miss Parker took good care of it last night," Broots smiled, attempting to divert her attention from the gauze. "Honest."

After a few moments, Debbie let her concerned expression fade. "I tried to stay awake until you got back, but it must have been really late." Her father gave a quick nod and smile, eyes quickly drifting back to the screen in front of him. With a sigh, she rolled her eyes and crossed the room. "Can I help?"

Debbie's words snapped him from the trance-like state he was rapidly falling into. Sucking in a deep breath, Broots hesitated, cocking his head sideways and blinking at her.

"I'm not a little girl anymore, Dad," she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I know why we're here; I know what those people did to Miss Parker and her mother, and I know where Jim and Ethan came from. I want to help," her words were adamant, expression determined. "Miss Parker is my friend."

Broots couldn't help the smile that crossed his face at her stance, so reminiscent of the older woman. "You do help, Deb, just by being here," he offered hopefully, then sighed as a scowl flitted across her face. Clearing his throat, the tech pushed himself from the floor and onto the couch behind him. Patting the seat beside him, he made no move to close the laptop. "Some of the things the Centre has done… I don't want you to see, Debbie. It's… it's not a nice place and some of the people are very… very bad," he frowned, struggling with the words.

"I know, remember? Jim told me about some of his time there, about being Jarod's clone. And Miss Parker talks in her sleep sometimes," Debbie shrugged, "she's told me a little, anyway. You're not as good at keeping secrets as you think, either," she pointed out. "You're very loud on the phone." The girl paused, taking the seat beside her father, knees turned inward toward her father, "I know you stay because they're your friends - because you want to help. I want to help, too."

Broots eyed his daughter, realizing once again that he didn't have to bend down to meet her eyes anymore. His little girl, the man sighed, wasn't a little girl anymore. Sighing, he nodded, waving the fingers of his right hand toward the laptop screen. "This hard drive came from the satellite office in Denver. We're trying to find anything we can about a project that may be called Illusion." With a light shrug, he added: "I don't think there's anything here, but we have to check anyway. Want to help me run a few searches?"

Smiling, the girl slid down on the floor, barely noticing as her father followed suit. Leaning over the laptop keypad, she ran her fingertips over the touchpad and began running through the search options on her father's quick-search program.

Broots barely hid a look of amusement when she began tapping her pinky against the side of the keyboard, trying to come up with a set of search terms. Her movements mirrored his in some ways, her infamously impatient role model in others. "Miss Parker talks in her sleep?"

He had not realized his question was spoken aloud until Debbie groaned, "Da-ad!"


	25. Section 3: Five

_Hello! My apologies for the delay – I was sidetracked by events seemingly beyond my control. Apparently long-distance moves and career changes have a way of taking over your life! ;-) Thanks for the reviews – I'd love to hear from more of you! At any rate, enjoy this chapter and expect more surprises and a little chaos in the coming chapters._

Part Five

"Jarod," Major Charles spoke into the phone, voice pleased. He gripped the corded phone against his ear with his shoulder, stirring the softened vegetables in the slow cooker.

"Dad," Jarod replied, pulling a piece of orange Pez from the Batman dispenser with his teeth. "How are you?"

"Just fine, Jarod. Everything here has been going well – saw where you laid those false trails for Mr. Lyle and Raines. Nice work. I assume you are doing well?"

"Yes. Nice and quiet." Clearing his throat, Jarod ventured, "Dad, I've been doing a little research. The Centre mainframe has been strangely devoid of activity. I considered going back into the facility but without Parker and Sydney there, it doesn't strike me as the safest maneuver. You want to shed some light on this? I know it has something to do with the cryogenics lab they think Parker trashed… and it seems that Angelo is missing as well."

Major Charles' eyes flicked from the spoon to Parker, who was sitting quietly at the kitchen table, flipping the pages of her mother's photo album. An occasional smile lit her face as she thumbed through her life. Placing his hand over the phone, Major Charles spoke quietly. "Parker?" Waiting until her brow furrowed and she looked up, he continued, "Do you know where Angelo is?"

"What?" she frowned. "At the Centre. What happened?" Her body tensed and she sat straighter.

"Jarod thinks he may be missing," Major Charles answered, uncovering the phone and shifting his mouth back toward the microphone. "Why do you think Angelo is missing?" he asked.

"Parker doesn't know where he is?" Jarod frowned, biting the Pez in half. Before waiting for his father's response, he added, "I don't _know_ that he's missing. It sounds like the cryogenics lab that was destroyed is being repaired for future use… and Angelo has not replied to any of my messages. I was under the impression that they were going to use Angelo to determine Parker's mental state at the time of the lab's destruction… but it seems that they either couldn't locate him or he refused to cooperate. Angelo seems to feel a sense of camaraderie toward Parker, so I was wondering if she knew what was going on."

"Angelo has free reign of the Centre, does he not?" Major Charles questioned, his eyes once again fixed on Parker's concerned expression.

"Yes. It's entirely possible he's simply hidden somewhere else for one reason or another," Jarod agreed. "Or that he's overwhelmed with the current state of matters at the Centre – or something he sensed from Parker in that lab. I just find it odd that he has not been in contact with either of us in the last few days."

"Perhaps he knows that contacting us has the potential to lead the Centre to us – or at least pove your trails as false," his father pointed out, smiling calmly at Miss Parker, whose eyes remained fixed to his, worry washing over her features.

Sighing into the phone, Jarod agreed, "Perhaps. He's alone there, Dad…"

Before his son could continue, the Major interrupted, "We know, Jarod. I'll speak with Parker and Sydney and see if they can give us some idea of what your friend may be up to. Between the three of us, I'm certain we can come to some sort of satisfactory conclusion."

"Sounds good, Dad. As for coming to satisfactory conclusions, care to let me in on what is going on there?"

Shaking his head, Major Charles broke Miss Parker's gaze. "Not much of anything worth mentioning, Jarod. We're just trying to determine what the Centre is up to and why everyone felt the sudden need to scatter. As soon as we have something finite figured out, you'll be among the first to know." Shrugging as if his son could see him, he put the spoon in the small boat next to slow cooker, sliding the lid back into place. "Take care, son. If you hear anything further about Angelo or our friends in Blue Cove, send us a video message. The uplink should be set by tonight. Otherwise, we'll be in touch in the next few days."

Sighing, Jarod grumbled, "All right, Dad. I'll keep digging and see what secrets they've buried this time."

"Jarod, be careful and be patient. Soon, we'll have enough information to put together what the Centre's current plot is and hopefully gather enough ammunition to put a stop to it. We can't push too far too fast."

With another sigh, the younger man agreed. "I know, Dad. Don't worry. I'll be in touch – tell everyone I said hello." Before the Major could reply, he heard the distinct click as the connection was severed.

As soon as the phone was placed back in the cradle, Parker was easing from her chair and toward the counter. "What happened to Angelo, Major?"

The older man shook his head. "As of right now, probably nothing. Jarod is just a little concerned that he has had no recent e-mails from CJ – Angelo. He thinks he may be hiding or, at the very least, avoiding Raines. It's also possible that Angelo has sensed some emotion from you in the time he has likely spent in the cryogenics lab, or anywhere in the Centre for that matter, since your absence." Catching the slight crinkling of her nose, he added, "I may not have known you for very long, Parker, but I know enough to know that when you feel things, you feel them very strongly. You may not acknowledge those emotions, but they're there." His words were punctuated with a kind smile.

Drawing in a deep breath, Miss Parker nodded, gaze drifting to an unknown memory she had tucked away somewhere in the recesses of her mind, a hand reaching to clasp the front of her throat. "Angelo is all right," she said after a moment, voice laced with sincerity. "I think I would know if he weren't."

--

"Tell me about Thomas Gates," Ethan requested, pushing his foot against the floor of the porch and propelling the wooden swing to and fro. He and his sister were curled near the center of the hanging bench, his arm thrown across the back and her head resting near his wrist. Ethan's fingers caressed the cool metal of the chain on the left side of the swing, while Parker's feet dangled near the opposite end, her arms wrapped around her waist.

Across from them, on a sliding bench, sat Major Charles, slowly turning the pages of his after dinner newspaper. It had been a few days since he'd taken the time for the indulgence, but following the weekend's activities the Major determined that he deserved it.

Miss Parker's expression had softened even as her shoulders tense, her feelings on the subject clearly in conflict. Eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and joy, she laughed quietly and caught her brother's gaze. "What do you want to know?" her words were quiet when she finally broke the quiet.

"Everything," Ethan shrugged. "I want to know as much about the man who stole my sister's heart as you're able to share. I want to understand what it is like to love someone in that way." Major Charles lowered the edge of his newspaper to observe his son and his sister, catching the sincere but gentle curiosity written across Ethan's features and the conflicted emotions that swirled beneath the surface of the woman's gaze.

"Thomas…" Parker's voice was gentle, her arms tightening around her as if fighting an invisible chill. "He was an amazing man, a good man, a gentle man," letting out a slightly bitter laugh, she added, "I'll never understand why he loved _me_."

Major Charles quietly pushing the bench to the same rhythm as the swing, folding the newspaper and laying it on the table to his right. A frown had crossed his face at her tone; he was all too familiar with self-blame and hatred. Cocking his head to the side, he casually looked the woman over, then briefly met his son's eyes. Neither interrupted or offered what she would surely hear as unnecessary words of comfort, choosing instead to let her continue at her chosen pace.

"He was a carpenter, actually – he said he liked making old things new again. I think in the beginning I was afraid that's all I was to him: a project, like one of his old houses, something for him to renovate and make better, then leave behind. But he never let me think that, not really. I didn't have to explain it," she slid her hands over the wood of the kitchen table, watching the silver of her ring drag against its surface. "Tommy just _knew_," Parker's fingers drifted through the air unconsciously as she spoke, painting her words into abstract images. "He knew me, my thoughts, my fears, my… mind. He knew me better than I think sometimes I know myself." Pausing, she chuckled, "Of course, Jarod orchestrated our meeting, so who knows what Tommy really knew about me ahead of time."

Major Charles eyebrows' rose as he focused on her. "Jarod did what?"

Shaking her head, Miss Parker shrugged her shoulders. "I was angry when I found out – Jarod didn't bother sharing that piece of information until about a year after Tommy was killed. He helped him on a pretend and apparently they became friends. Your son," she smirked, "decided to play matchmaker." The Major inwardly cringed, knowing that Jarod's actions had tread past naïve into territory that he wasn't sure how to address. His oldest son's thoughts, motives, and emotions were a mystery unto themselves, and, it appeared to the pilot, they must be as much a mystery to himself.

"Thomas wanted me to leave the Centre. Initially, I thought it was the worst idea I had ever heard. If I wanted to catch Jarod," her eyes flicked from Ethan to the Major, lips pursing solemnly. "If I wanted to catch Jarod, if I wanted to find my mother's killer, if I wanted to live my life – I had to be at the Centre. My father had insured me that I could leave once my purpose there had been fulfilled. Of course, at that time, I assumed my purpose was bringing Jarod back," her hand slid from the table top, sliding across her still-flat midsection. "But he had a way of making me see things that I hadn't seen since before my mother died. He made me want a _life_ outside of that place, a life my mother would have been proud to see me live. So I resigned, gave Daddy my gun, and made plans to join Tommy in Oregon once I had settled matters with my house and such. The next morning, he was murdered on my porch. Daddy's wife, Brigitte... She just executed him like an animal," her voice was strained, quiet. After a moment, Miss Parker continued, "I couldn't leave then; I had no reason to leave and nowhere to go."

Ethan's arm had settled across the back of his sister's section of the swing midway through the story, and as she wove her tale his hand came to rest on her shoulder. He turned to gaze steadily at his father, who was watching the younger woman with a look of both understanding and sadness. _If nothing else,_ Ethan thought, _we know what it is to lose things. How important it is to hold onto what is left_.

"And now?" Major Charles asked, voice low and calm.

The words were exactly what she needed – devoid of sympathy but filled with a sense of kinship.

Forcing a smile, Parker replied, "Well, as the saying goes, the world is my oyster." She shrugged, unintentionally knocking her brother's hand back onto the chair. "I have every reason to be anywhere but the Centre and no intention of ever being a part of that horror show again."

"Thomas and our mother," Ethan began, voice slightly hesitant, "they're still with you, with all of us, just in a different way. We can't see them, but we know they're there." He twisted toward his sister, tapping his forefinger against his temple. "They're in here," moving his thumb to point at his chest, "and here, and they'll guide us and help us along the way." Smiling, Ethan reached for his water bottle. "Granted the clues are obscure and the voices are sometimes annoying when you're trying to sleep, eat, focus, hold a conversation…" his tone was jovial as his words trailed off.

Parker chuckled, then smacked the hand still on her shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're not the one they're waking up three times a night with weird dreams and strange directions."

"That," Ethan pointed, "has very little to do with the voices and everything to do with this one," he indicated her stomach, making a production of schooling his face into a serious expression. "Jim's website says pregnant women have bizarre, vivid dreams. For the record, none of us are purple and we do not taste like ice cream. Resist any urges to wear gingham and baby on board stickers are really just ugly."

"Oh, shut it," she smacked him on the shoulder, pushing herself out of the swing and throwing a teasing glare at Major Charles. "Can't you control your son? I think perhaps he needs to get back to work – he has had entirely too much free time to torture his sister today!"

With a forced, dramatic sigh, Ethan stood to his feet and threw his hands in the air. "Fine, fine. I'll go see what Mr. Broots has found today and see if I can offer them some assistance. Maybe they'll let me do some actual _work_," he offered a poor rendition of his sister's glare. Watching her roll her eyes in return, his expression cracked and he whirled on his heels to go into the living room before she could goad him further.

A soft smile drifted across Miss Parker's face as the door slipped shut behind him, and she shook her head lightly and retook her seat. "He tries so hard to make me laugh," she commented, sharing an indulgent grin with her brother's father.

"He loves you," Major Charles replied, smiling kindly at her from across the open space. "He lost a great number of years with you, with all of us. I don't imagine he'll let another day go by without trying to insert himself as much as possible into all the parts of our lives."

"My baby brother," she sighed. "I wish… well, I couldn't have asked for a better one."

"Miss Parker!" Debbie called from inside the living room, breaking her train of thought just as the Major asked her where she had drifted. "Miss Parker! We found something, come here!"

Crinkling her eyebrows, Parker met Major Charles' gaze. With a nod of encouragement, the older man followed her as she stood, holding the door open and ushering her under his arm and into the room.


	26. Section 3: Six

_Whew! I'm back from my mini-vacation – South Carolina is a lovely place this time of year… minus the extremely strict parking policies! Packing is still taking a considerable amount of my time. I've never lived in a cold-winter climate before, so the closets are giving me particular trouble. If anyone has any recommendations on places to go, things to do, things to make sure you have, etc, in Boston – please let me know. Like a nut, I'm moving sight-unseen to a completely different region of the United States…_

_This is a short part to bridge to the next one, which will likely be a longer-than-average piece. Enjoy! And please review! _

Part Six

"Debbie?" Parker asked, striding purposefully toward the coffee table where the girl had seated herself beside her father. Her eyebrow lifted as she watched the girl turn the laptop toward her. Before she could continue, Broots cleared his throat.

"Debbie, uh… Debbie wanted to help. She's pretty good at this stuff," he couldn't help but smile with pride. "She found something that might be important." Fidgeting in his seat, Broots leaned forward. "This is the Gemini file."

Crouching beside Debbie, Parker eyed the screen carefully. "This isn't anything we haven't seen before," she pointed out.

"Right, right," Broots nodded, "but it is something we haven't seen in a _while_. It was wiped from the mainframe when you were locked in the psychiatric hospital, you know, after Jarod and the Major were able to liberate Jim from Donaterase."

"Psychiatric hospital?" Major Charles frowned, pitch rising.

Ignoring the older man, Miss Parker squinted at the screen and then flicked her gaze toward the computer technician. Placing a hand on Debbie's shoulder, she offered the girl a small smile. "Good work, Debbie. What do you think it means, Broots?"

Shrugging, the man replied, "I don't know yet, Miss Parker. But if the Gemini files have been replaced, it could mean they're trying to restart the project. I haven't had time to compare the information here with what we already know about Gem-Jim, that is, or about Mirage. If there have been any alterations, it may give us some idea of what they're planning with Illusion."

"Have you found the Mirage file, as well?" Major Charles asked from his position behind Parker. The younger woman stood as he spoke, both gazing toward Broots. Debbie's fingers flew to the keyboard, hitting the Alt and Tab commands, switching the screen to the Mirage file.

Sighing, Major Charles nodded and let his eyes fall on Parker's as she glanced over her shoulder.

"I'm going to run a search for files that may be linked to these two while I'm checking for alterations," Broots shrugged again. "I'm not really sure what we're going to find, if anything."

"Thanks Broots," Miss Parker nodded. "Hey Deb, why don't you come help me in the kitchen for a little while? I was thinking cupcakes, or maybe brownies. Something with chocolate."

The girl's eyes flashed with pleasure, "Sure!" Leaping to her feet, she started for the kitchen.

"I'll meet you in there in a few minutes," the brunette called after her, crossing her arms and whirling on her friend. "Broots, do you really think Debbie should be…?" she began, shaking her head.

"She understands more than either of us give her credit for, Miss Parker," Broots offered. "She's my little girl…" his voice trailed off, "I never wanted Debbie to know so much about the Centre. But I can't protect her from everything."

"Just be careful what she sees, Broots. We don't have any idea what may be in those files," Parker reminded him, voice low. Broots nodded fretfully as she turned her back and headed for the kitchen.

"Miss Parker?" he called, before she could pass through the doorway. Watching her turn toward him, eyebrow raised, the tech began to speak.

"There's a file attached to this one," he cleared his throat. "I didn't want Debbie to see it. It looks like it's rigged with a tracking program masked as a self-destruct timer. I'm fairly certain I can reroute traffic to make it look like the person opening the file is somewhere else."

"What's in it?" Parker queried.

"I don't know yet, Miss Parker. But from the way they've got it set up, I get the feeling it's something they know you – or Jarod – would want to see. Or maybe Mr. Parker," Broots added at the last moment. "It looks like the file has been there for some time. I can't be sure who was intended to find it."

Running a hand through her dark locks, Parker sighed and turned sideways. Placing her hand on the door to the kitchen, she nodded. "Find out what's in that file, Broots. It may lead us to what we're looking for."

"Yes, Miss Parker," Broots nodded in return, eyes flitting toward Major Charles. "I think it might be a good idea if Jim helped with this. Two pairs of eyes, you know, to make sure the Centre can't trace us back… There's always the possibility…"

"I have other safe houses, Mr. Broots. If we're going to need to move, now is the time to do it," Major Charles interrupted. "We find what we need now, when it's not too complicated to move everyone." Broots watched the Major as his eyes drifted to the side, pausing in his speech. "As Parker's pregnancy progresses, this becomes more risky." Shifting on his feet, the older man headed for the stairs. "I'll send Jim up to help you. We need to know what's in that file."

--

"Can we ice the brownies, Miss Parker?" Debbie asked, half-turning from her position at the kitchen counter as the other woman entered the room.

"Sure," the older woman smiled, walking forward and reaching into the cabinet for the box of brownie mix the girl couldn't reach. The girl took the box from her hands and began perusing the instructions.

"We need eggs, oil, and water," she shared, eyes lifting to Parker's in silent direction. Chuckling to herself, the brunette turned to the refrigerator and retrieved the carton of eggs and placed them on the counter, then reached into the cabinet again for a bottle of vegetable oil.

Debbie tore into the ingredients as soon as she had deposited a mixing bowl on the counter.

"You realize the brownies aren't going anywhere, right?" Miss Parker's tone was amused.

Rolling her eyes, the girl laughed. "I really want some chocolate," she offered, turning her back to the older woman and ripping open the bag of brownie mix.

"Debbie, can I talk to you about something?" Parker asked, hoisting herself up onto the counter beside the girl.

"Sure, Miss Parker," the girl shrugged, fleetingly turning curious eyes on the older woman.

Shifting to find the most comfortable position and leaning back against the overhead cabinets, the older woman smiled gently at the girl. "Thank you for helping your Dad today. You're a very smart girl, Debbie, and I appreciate that you want to help me – all of us. I just want you to understand that the Centre won't care who you are or who you aren't – they don't care about collateral damages or innocent lives. More than anything else," Parker's voice was soft, "I want to know that you are safe." She reached out a hand and pressed it against the side of the girl's face.

"You don't want me to help," the girl stated, voice hurt and eyes wide. "I can take care of myself!"

"On the contrary, Debbie," the brunette was firm, "I absolutely want your help. I just want you to promise to be very, very careful. And please understand that there are some things that we can't ask for your help with, and don't be hurt that we want to protect you from those things, okay?"

The girl's shoulders slumped. "I thought…" she sighed. "I know they did bad things to you, Miss Parker. I know where babies come from, I'm not a child. And I know you didn't _know_ they were doing things to you. It makes me so angry! I just want to make them pay for hurting you," the girl eyed her feet and lightly kicked the cabinet in front of her. "I want us to have real lives, like normal people, and I want you to have your baby and love it. And I want to babysit. I want us to be safe and happy and I want them to _pay_ for hurting you!" Turning round eyes up to the brunette, "I want to help."

Parker drew her bottom lip between her teeth, blinking back a wave of heat that was building behind her eyes. "You make me happy, Debbie. You and your daddy, and my brother and Major Charles and Jim and Ben. I think this baby will make me happy, too." She tugged at the girl's shoulders and tucked her in to her left side before tugging her arm upward. "Come sit up here with me."

Once the girl was seated on the counter, brownie mix temporarily abandoned in the mixing bowl, Parker pushed her hair behind her ears. "Debbie, you're right, I didn't know what was happening to me at the time. And no, it wasn't right," her words were careful and low. "And yes, that's how I got pregnant. The Centre has done a great number of terrible things – and most of them had very little to do with me. This wasn't their first attempt at producing genetically engineered children – you said you knew where Jim came from?" Watching the girl nod, Parker continued. "If we don't stop them, it probably won't be their last. But if there's one thing I've learned from the Centre, it's that getting even, making them pay – it's not worth it. We can fight them, and we can win. But you can't 'get even' with someone – or something – that has no conscience. The only way we can hurt them is by damaging their ability to work on these projects and make money. Some of the things in those computer mainframes will give us the ability to hit them where it hurts. We can expose them to government agencies, the media, and in some cases, to each other. But a lot of the information we're going to find is worthless. You see, the government pays the Centre to do a lot of what it does, or at the very least, they know the Centre is doing things it shouldn't be. And sometimes, the projects they conduct have bad effects on one person, but could save thousands of others," taking a deep breath, she shook the image of a dying Faith from her mind. "We can't know – for every single thing they do – what the good and bad effects are. Some of their experiments, though – like this one," she pulled the girl's hand to lightly touch her stomach, "are performed for all the wrong reasons. So we hit them where it hurts – in projects like this one. And then we go to the safest place we can find and try to hold them off so we can live our lives." Holding Debbie's right hand against her stomach, Parker reached forward and again tucked a loose strand of hair behind the girl's ear. "You are a big help, Debbie. I just don't want you to have to see all of the bad things the Centre has done… and all of the bad things I have done."

Debbie's eyes held Parker's, emotions passing clearly through their locked gaze. "I love you, Miss Parker. No matter what, okay?" Debbie reached forward, locking both arms around the older woman and burying her face in her chest. "You're my best friend."

Breathing in the scent of the young girl's shampoo, Parker closed her eyes against the onset of tears at the girl's simple, honest statement. In a moment of unguarded honesty, she replied, "Thank you, Debbie. You're my best friend, too."


	27. Section 3: Seven

_Enjoy! Thanks again for the reviews – please continue letting me know what you think!_

Part Seven

Brownies safely in the oven and a timer set, the two returned to the living room, where Parker eased herself down to lay on the sofa. Debbie took up a position on the floor in front of her, grabbing a book and propping on her elbows to flip the pages. With a yawn, Parker glanced at the girl and smiled, then closed her eyes, ignoring the other occupants of the room in favor of a short nap. Broots looked quizzically at Miss Parker, then his daughter, shrugging his shoulders when neither offered explanations for their slightly red-rimmed eyes. Within moments, Broots heard a quiet sigh as Parker drifted off to sleep. Smiling slightly, he returned to typing on his keyboard after exchanging a quick glance with his daughter. The file Miss Parker wanted to see, he acknowledged, wouldn't open itself. While the process would move more quickly once Jim and Ethan returned, setting up the foundation of their operation could easily be taken care of beforehand.

--

_A hooded figure was crawling through a stone passageway, the oppressive scent of mold clung to the fabric of its cloak as it moved through the dankness. There was light ahead, growing nearer by the second. Reaching an open, candlelit chamber in the stone, the figure crawled to the opposite wall and flipped back the hood, revealing feminine, delicate features and curly dark hair. She reached a pale hand toward an ungrouted stone, tugging at the loose bit of masonry and shifting backward as broken pieces of granite rained on the damp floor at her feet. Carefully lowering the stone to the ground, she reached forward with both hands and pulled a cherry-finished box from inside._

_A hand fell on the woman's hood-covered shoulder, silver ring glinting in the candlelight from the sconces that ringed the chamber. "Ocee," the voice whispered, causing the slight woman to tense, turning carefully with the box in her hands. A look of agonized resignation crossed her face as she turned to face the speaker, the weight of the box suddenly cumbrous in her grasp._

"_We have to do this," Ocee replied to the questions the other did not ask. "We can never stop them if we don't know what it is we're stopping, Catherine. If Margaret…" her words trailed off, urgent and uttered low._

_Dropping her hand from the other woman's shoulder to her wrist, a young Catherine Parker moved forward into the light of the chamber. Drawing to her full height, the brunette sighed and let her gaze fall to the box in her friend's hands. "I know," she answered, watching as her friend knelt on the stone floor and placed the box in front of her. Ocee's gaze drifted up to fix on Catherine's face, hands folded in her lap in front of her. For just a moment, she hesitated, then forcibly steeled herself and sank to her knees beside the other woman. "The price of this…" _

"_Is high," Ocee nodded, lowering her gaze._

_With a sigh, Catherine placed her left hand over Ocee's right. Offering Ocee a tentative smile, she raised her right hand to the corner of the box, lifting the corner and sealing their fates._

--

"Ben, you are truly gifted," Sydney chuckled, cuffing the other man on the shoulder as he pulled open the living room door. Before he could reply, both men were cut off with an urgent shushing sound, as Broots pointed at the brunette napping on the couch.

"She just fell asleep about five minutes ago," Broots spoke quietly, peeking cautiously across the room as he stood and walked over to the two older men.

Ben nodded, setting the object he was carrying on the floor in the unoccupied corner of the room, a white blanket covering the lumpy shape. With a smile, he tugged the heavy blanket off the back of the recliner nearest him and carefully covered his surrogate daughter. Every time he looked at her, Ben could not help but see the Catherine he had once known and loved. He carefully leaned close and placed a gentle hand on her forehead, brushing the hair from her face, before standing straight and stepping around Debbie to rejoin the others.

"What's going on?" Broots asked, gesturing at the object on the floor.

With a grin, Ben winked at the other man. "You'll see, Mr. Broots. It's a bit of a surprise for Miss Parker, something to make her smile."

Frowning, Broots nodded. "I think she was crying in the kitchen with Debbie," he whispered. "Neither one of them said anything but… well, I think she's kind of upset about something. Not that, you know, there's an absence of things for her to be upset about." Looking helplessly at Sydney, the younger man continued, "I just don't understand why they'd do this to her, Syd."

Sighing, Sydney placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder and lightly pushed him toward the couch on the opposite side of the room. "The Centre does what it wants to do, Broots. They don't see faces or personalities, or even alliances. Parker was there, she fit the bill for what they needed."

"Do you really think that's the only reason, Sydney?" Ben spoke, his words filled with a dangerous, quiet sort of anger.

The psychiatrist shook his head, eyes flicking from one man to the other. "No, I don't. I think this has everything to do with _her_, and probably with her mother." With a shrug, he added, "And likely the child's father. _Why_ and _what_ are what I'm curious about."

"Syd…" Broots began, turning his head to gaze across the room at the sleeping woman beside his daughter. Catching her father's gaze, Debbie smiled curiously and pulled herself to her knees, crawling quietly away from the couch and toward the men.

"I don't know, Broots," Sydney cut him off, knowing the younger man was preparing to ask him a question he could not answer. The child's paternity, he knew, depended entirely on the precise use the Centre intended for the child as well as a dash of convenience.

Debbie pushed herself to her feet and smiled at her father, slipping her arm through his. "Daddy, the brownies will be done in a little while. Will you watch them so I can go downstairs? We set a timer." She leaned against his shoulder, turning puppy dog eyes up at him.

Crumbling beneath her gaze, Broots nodded. "Sure, Deb. I'll come get you when they're ready." He smiled a little wider when she pecked him on the cheek before leaping from the couch and disappearing down the stairs.

"She's a good girl," Ben offered, watching the man sit a little straighter, countenance infused with pride.

Nodding, Broots began to speak, only to be cut off by a flurry of activity across the room. The Major trudged up the stairs, having met Debbie on the stairs as she returned to the library. Laughing to himself, he trod into the room just as Parker jerked awake. Springing forward as she woke, Parker flung the blanket off of her and stared at the door, chest heaving. "Ocee," she croaked, hands clenched into fists around the cotton blanket.

"Parker?" Major Charles asked, moving quickly as he entered the living room.

"Ocee," the brunette repeated, eyes unfocused as she curled her fingers around the edges of the blanket. A shudder worked its way violently through her body.

Dropping to sit on the edge of the couch, Major Charles clasped his hands around her thin arms. Without a thought, Broots rushed into the kitchen for a glass of water, while Sydney neared the two others and slipped his fingers around Parker's wrist. After a moment, he removed his hand, satisfied her pulse was within a normal range, and dropped into the recliner nearest the couch. Ben stood beside him, confusion and concern drifting across his face.

"Parker? Wake up," Major Charles spoke, voice firm.

"Awake," she gasped, pulling her right hand loose from the blanket and placing it over her racing heart. Working her mind around the words, she again uttered, "Ocee."

"Ocee?" Major Charles repeated, "The woman from the herb shop?"

Nodding, Parker tugged her arms loose, pressing her hands together and pulling them to her face. "I think I'm going crazy," she laughed, the sound hollow and verging on hysterical.

Broots cautiously stepped toward the couch, quietly placing the glass of water on the coffee table and taking a seat on the other side of Sydney. He wrung his hands as he listened.

"You're not going crazy," the Major comforted. "It was just a dream, Parker. It's okay."

"No," she shook her head. "No it wasn't a dream. Ocee met Margaret – more than once I bet. I thought, when we were there, I thought she spoke of visions and seeing things that weren't there – maybe she did. But I think she had also met Margaret before. And she knew my mother." Her gaze was fastened desperately on the Major's face. "She knew them, from before. Sometime before – before she was blind, before my mother… before Margaret went her own way. Before," Parker's voice was adamant.

"It's okay," Major Charles repeated, biting back the urge to question her about her dream.

As if reading his mind, Parker shook her head. "It wasn't a dream. I just… it makes sense. Mama, your Margaret, Ocee – they read the scrolls, didn't they? I don't know how. The little girl, little Miss Parker, she hid them with the Brothers who founded the Order. Ocee – probably, Ocee – must have found them." Her voice rising, she continued, speaking quickly. "The scrolls drove my father crazy. He threw himself from an airplane. And Ocee, Ocee was blind but she had visions. My mother, she heard voices. And Margaret… she was looking for the scrolls – but maybe she hadn't read them yet. Maybe that's why she was searching for them there. They all… they all lost a sense of reality and gained something _else_." A second shudder racked her body as she stared through the Major. "They all read the scrolls, didn't they? And now they're driving me crazy."

Trying to follow her dizzying train of thought, Major Charles reached his arms around her and pulled her into his chest. "Did you read the scrolls, Parker?" his voice was quiet, calming.

She shook her head violently, forehead pressed into his left shoulder. "No. Jarod and I… as soon as we found them, the cavalry arrived," she laughed bitterly. "But Mama… Mama's been reading them to me. I don't want… I…" she stuttered, turning to press her face into his neck.

"Are you sure what you're hearing, what your mother is telling you… are you sure these are the scrolls?" Sydney asked, leaning forward and pressing a hand against her back in comfort.

She nodded into the Major's neck. "I can't make out most of what she's saying. It's not… it's not in English. Most of it's Latin… and it's stuttered. The voices… I still don't hear them very clear…ly," lifting her head from the Major's shoulder, eyes wide, Parker asked, "Ethan? Where's Ethan?"

"Hush," Major Charles ordered, rocking her against his frame. "Calm down. Ben will find Ethan, and we'll see if he's heard anything. He hasn't mentioned anything about the Vespatian Scrolls, but it's possible he's just unaware of what he's hearing."

"I don't understand," she muttered. "Why wouldn't Ocee just tell us, instead of sending us on a chase? If they made Mama hear voices I already hear, and made Ocee see visions I'm already seeing, why does Mama want me to know what is written in the scrolls?"

"You said," Sydney began, "that you saw a vision of a little girl on the Isle of Carthis."

"Yes," she croaked, brows furrowed as she lifted her face to gaze at the psychiatrist.

"Perhaps Ocee wanted to see what you knew, what you could see by yourself. Maybe she was going to tell you but never had a chance."

"That's why they killed her," Parker sighed, body slumping. "They didn't kill her for helping us search for the scrolls. They killed her because they were afraid of what she might tell _me_."

"It's also possible that the scrolls didn't do any of these things to your friend Ocee, or to your mother. You may just be looking for commonalities where none exist," he rationalized.

"No," she argued. "No, that's what Mama told me. That to have the knowledge the scrolls contain, you must give something up. Ocee gave her sight to keep her life, to guard the scrolls. Mama gave her life, but kept her voice. If Margaret read them…" she glanced carefully at the Major, preparing to continue.

"Maybe she gave up Jarod?" he spoke, voice hurt and eyes lost. His body tensed and he pulled away from the brunette, sighing as he leaned over, placing his head in his hands. "And the rest of us. To save her life. To…"

"Save more than that," Ethan interrupted, entering the room and letting the screen door slam closed behind him. "This is bigger than any one life, even hers. Even our mother's… even ours." He clambered over his father and sister's legs, dropping onto the couch in the unoccupied space on the other side of Miss Parker. "I couldn't make out everything she was saying, either," he offered, watching as she turned from the Major to better see both men.

"Ethan…" she tried, letting a hand rest carefully on the Major's shoulder, drawing herself upward and taking a deep breath.

"I don't know, sister," he breathed. "She says you hold the key. You're the only one who can find the answers," he shrugged. "I'm just here to help you translate."

"If I have to go crazy to know the answers…" she began, "I don't know if that's a price I'm willing to pay." Major Charles sucked in a noisy breath, straightening his back and forcing himself to listen as the half-siblings spoke.

"You won't have to," Ethan assured. "I think that's the point. I think the scrolls take one thing and give another in its place. Our mother lost her life but gained an afterlife – an eternal voice. The woman on the Isle, she lost her sight but gained the gift of prophecy and vision. Don't you see? You already have the vision and the voice – you can see and hear what the rest of us can't. The scrolls can't give you anything because the gifts it can impart – you already have them. The Centre may have created us," he waved his hand between them, "for their own nefarious purposes, but I think they failed to realize that creating us the way in which they did may have made us immune to the effects that annihilated their prior threats."

"How…" she began, shaking her head and glancing from Major Charles to Ethan. "The static," Miss Parker answered herself. "The answers are in the static for you, aren't they?"

"Our mother's voice, she speaks clearly. And she usually speaks a lot. In the few days she hasn't spoken to us, I've been listening to the other voices – the ones I usually can't hear over her," Ethan smiled, taking his sister's hand in his own. "She's there for both of us, to keep us safe and together. But the information she's offering you right now, that's _your _gift, sister. I think mine is what's in the background."

Tugging her hands from his, Parker flung her arms around her brother's thin shoulders. "I'm glad you're my brother, Ethan," she mumbled into his ear as she offered him a quick hug. "I really would go crazy without you."

Major Charles sighed quietly behind them, avoiding Sydney's penetrating gaze as he filed his hurt and frustration away to be dealt with after the more imminent threats had been dispelled. Ethan glanced over his sister's shoulder as she flung her right hand out, letting it fall over the older man's knee. Squeezing lightly, she offered the three men a tired, embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry for frightening you."

"Don't you worry about that, Miss Parker," Ben spoke from his position inside the door. "We're just glad you're okay."

Nodding to Ben, she added, "She catches me off guard, sometimes."

"You're also pregnant," Sydney nodded toward her midsection, "which may have an effect on the way in which you hear her voice and your stress reaction to it."

"When Marg…" Major Charles cleared his throat, "When my wife was pregnant, she dreamt the strangest, most vivid dreams." He glanced down at the hand on his knee as Parker patted it in sympathy.

"What's that smell?" Parker spoke, feeling an almost desperate need to change the subject. "Oh, the brownies. Broots, weren't you watching them?"

"Shit! Oh.. uh.. sh-shoot!" he yelped, nearly stumbling over his feet as he rushed into the kitchen, the door swinging shut behind him. Grumbling as he flung the oven door open, Broots stared forlornly into the oven at the cracked and blackened brownies. "Debbie's going to be upset."


End file.
